


Black Comes in Reds

by Archaic_Nepenthes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Friendship and brotherhood and attraction, Ginger Sirius Black, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Marauders Fest 2020, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaic_Nepenthes/pseuds/Archaic_Nepenthes
Summary: Red made him notice Black.(Or: a misfire changing Sirius' hair red has unforeseen ramifications for James.)
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter
Comments: 17
Kudos: 40
Collections: Marauders Fest 2020





	1. Rose Colored Lenses

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt # [B39](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fdocs.google.com%2Fdocument%2Fd%2F1LjSvfHgI4EaUg57b_I_MylvqFWx9HFftoog9V15ubUA%2Fedit%3Fusp%3Dsharing&t=ZWM0OGQ5Nzk4ZjFkZTVkYjM3ZjUwOWNhZGJlNjAxOGUyZTBjMmIwMSx5VlE4cE1CTw%3D%3D&b=t%3AMKDidJW9CV2tFwFg5wOOmw&p=https%3A%2F%2Fmarauders-fest.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F630699231507824640%2Fits-finally-time-prompts-are-now-up-for-grabs&m=1&ts=1612372439)
> 
> Huge thanks to the spectacular beta, [curlyy_hair_dont_care](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlyy_hair_dont_care/) for correcting my many mistakes and making the whole writing process a thousand times better!  
> Also kudos to the mods at [Marauders Fest](https://marauders-fest.tumblr.com/) for their patience and the opportunity to participate in such an awesome fest! As well as the original prompter, because without them this story wouldn't exist.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rose-colored glasses: a cheerful or optimistic view of things, usually without valid basis_  
> 

James was born with weaker vision and _beautiful_ eyes—his mother always told him. She would hold his face in her warm, fragile hands, thumbs gently tracing over his eyebrows. Combined with the way she’d look into his eyes full of gentleness as if they were priceless, that would pacify him enough to allow his glasses to be settled softly back onto his face—still puffy-eyed and splotchy from his latest fit over them.

He didn’t want glasses.

It was a fact that hadn’t changed since he first got them at four and half years old after his parents had realized he had trouble seeing things as clearly once they reached a certain distance away.

James never found putting them on enjoyable. And he liked his appointments to get his glasses’ prescription changed, scheduled as often as he’d grow an inch, even less. Because unlike most things in his life where he got his way, his doting parents wouldn’t budge on this one.

So he opted to constantly lose them instead. It began on accident, conveniently becoming more on purpose as he relished the time his nose and eyes were uncovered. He’d go for hours at a time without them... until his parents would corner him to put them back on, which he did, with mild annoyance.

When he was learning to read, however, he had no objections to wearing them. He mildly disliked them at worst, when they fogged up or fell off his nose, then. But they were still useful for seeing things farther away when he needed to. A bit like turning on and off the distant-focus of his eyes at will.

His serious outbursts over them didn’t start until around the time James began questioning being the only toddler he’d see wearing them whenever he and his parents went out. Plenty of older people like his father, but never James’ age. 

His parents’ careful answers reassured him little, never speaking the words: “ _Your eyes will be the same as other children one day too._ ” The slight inconvenience they represented before, then became unforgivable.

Wearing the constantly smudged frames was just an unnecessary chore for his condition that magic should be able to fix.

Because, as a child of wizards, magic was the solution to everything. Why should his eyes be any different?

Unimpressed, he’d rebelliously wear his spectacles as little as possible, staring at blurry objects from far away, stubbornly imagining they weren’t that blurry and willing his magic to do _something_ about it. 

It never did. 

Instead, like they had before he’d gotten glasses, his eyes made do with prioritizing things that it could easily and clearly see in the distance— _colors_ of objects when they were far enough to become smudgy. He began to enjoy staring at the colors themselves, instead of worrying about their definite shape. And the further away the thing he was looking at, the more their color was clearer than where the object began and ended, even mixing with the other colors around it. Like one of his mother’s watercolor paintings.

When he peeked from the window into the garden, his mother tending to the roses on the far-end looked like a smudged blue (or whatever color she was wearing that day) under a yellow blob (her straw hat) and smudgy silver (her hair). If his father sat in his large office in the chair farthest from the door, he looked like a head of silvery-white that turned into his typical brown suit and further melded into his also brown recliner.

The more he went about without his glasses, the more this became a pattern for things beyond his vision’s ability to focus. And then it became the case for even objects he could see clearly up close: What primarily would attract his eyes wasn’t the less definite blurry images of shapes in the distance... but their smudged _color_ , shade, and brightness. 

It made flying on his toy broom around the house even more fun, looking into the distance to watch everything blur even more, as James sped past despite his parents' protests. One color stood out the most to him. 

Red.

Unsurprisingly, it soon became his favourite color. He liked to think he could pick out red faster than most people. And sometimes, he even pretended that if he focused enough on the colors of things, and not their shape, he could see the color of _people’s_ magic instead. Both on himself and his parents, he’d sometimes recognize an aura of beautiful, golden-red.

But like most accidental magic, if that’s what it had been and not a figment of his imagination, James outgrew it.

Along with the last of his hope for normal vision.

Once he was nearly eight and old enough to understand that magic was never going to _fix_ his eyesight and he’d have to keep his glasses for good—just like his father had long before James had existed—he’d had a particular tantrum that rivaled all others before it. 

It was difficult to put into words... feeling so inadequate at something. When, with his strong magic and notable flying skills, it had never been something James had to feel before. Everything in his life up until that point, never wanting for anything with his parents’ endless affection and wealth, had been perfect. 

And now it was ruined.

The idea he could not be as _able_ as others pained him in a way that was _new_ and just as unwelcome. James didn’t want to have something that was a part of him be any _less_ than others, let alone stuck that way, and his frustration mounted into his biggest question: _Why._

“Why can’t I see like everybody else!”

After having thoroughly exhausted himself, his mum cradled him in her lap in her favourite chair. After a minute or so of soothingly rubbing his back, she finally explained it to him: that James had probably inherited his poorer vision from his father’s side and what _near-sightedness_ was. 

“You might have his glasses,” she lifted his dad’s spare spectacles—seemingly huge at the time and gently settled them onto his small face anyway, “But you also get his lovely color.” She pinched his cheeks, making James laugh. “So don’t blame your father too much.” 

James returned his mothers’ smile.

“Lovely, was it?” The deep voice of his father chimed in suddenly.

“Oh.” His mother huffed, goodnaturedly. “How long have you _helpfully_ stood there, Fleamont?”

“Long enough to catch the tail end of it.” He gave his wife a gentle peck on the cheek before directing his attention back to their son.

“And a little secret from me.” His father squatted down so he was eye level with him, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Some women find men in glasses _irresistible_.”

His mother laughed then, and a meaningful smile passed between his parents.

“Am I.... irres-stible?”

“Oh, terribly so.” His father nodded. “I reckon you already have a few girls lined up just to look your way. Wouldn’t you say, Euphemia?”

James snickered, feeling smug and _very_ good about this fact, while his mother and father debated how many imaginary girls his age had their hearts stolen by their son.

It seemed like a silly source of confidence in retrospect, but James never felt ashamed of his glasses and wore them dutifully ever since. And his bravado boosted significantly. The glasses were easier to wear and get used to once he’d accepted them. The truth was James could see as good as anyone else… once he’d got them on. 

Though, even if his mother hadn’t asked, James never would fault either of his parents for anything of himself belonging to them. He loved them dearly and was more than happy to exist because of them, whether he was able to see things properly that were far away or not.

Since that enlightening conversation, it became clearer to him over the passing months and years that his parents felt undeservedly guilty for any weakness their son might have inherited from them. Or more accurately, they were prepared to blame themselves for any of James’ potential health impairments or developmental delays due to their having him at their age. 

It didn’t take much to notice that most children’s parents were younger than his—distinctly older and greyer. But James didn’t care so much. Because as they were both retired, they had more time for James than other kids’ parents did anyway. 

But their worries were unfounded, as James was caught up with most children his age socially and academically and in everything else, right up to his first letter getting invited to Hogwarts.

The trend continued in school. Aside from his vision—easily amenable with glasses, James continued to excel above others in grades, quidditch and looks. And James, for his part, tried to make up for all the times he unknowingly made them guilty about his eyesight by being undeniably _strong_.

His parents, with their only child being so content and successful, couldn’t be happier. Though he knew even if he wasn’t, they would love and spoil him just as much—if just for being their only son after trying for children for so long. 

With all his successes, there was little room for anything but pride for his glasses, which had already become a part of himself. And as a person, James thought of himself as pretty fantastic.

The only thing that did remain of his childhood tryst with not wearing glasses… was that certain colors drew his attention more than shapes.

And Reds still attracted him the most.

It was also _her’s_ that caught James’ eye in his very first year at Hogwarts.

The first thing he noticed about Lily Evans of course wasn’t her green eyes. But her hair, red...and his favorite shade at that. 

_Red-gold._

It fell above her shoulders in waves, catching the light hypnotically to frame her just as lovely face and contrasting her beautiful, striking eyes. A picture-perfect angel.

James was smitten the first day he saw her and never had wanted to get a girls’ attention so badly before. 

Or ever had as hard of a time to get it.

She was never impressed by him, regrettably. No matter how much James worked to capture her elusive attention for the past four years. And if he acted out to get it, it was because her temper was worth a hundred times more than her complete disinterest.

She had only gotten more beautiful at fifteen. (He was certain there’d be no other he’d ever find as gorgeous or fascinating.) So James was getting a little desperate because he knew that it was only a matter of time before Snivellus made his move. He’d been an eyesore revolving around Lily since the beginning, and James might be blinder on occasion without his spectacles, but he wasn’t stupid.

He could spot a rival for Evans’ affection a mile away, especially when it constantly hovered in her shadow.

James didn’t think Snake-Snape had a chance, not really. Unless Lily was _that kind_ , that she’d give her best friend of an unknown amount of years a chance…

She might. James had no way of knowing. 

What he did know was he desperately wanted her. And he was completely distracted every moment she was in his line of sight. He couldn’t _not_ notice Evans.

Beautiful, shiny, red. It suited her, and doubly so. Because red and green went _so well_ together. James could look at her all day.

But she would barely notice.

Telling his frustrations to his friends had been no help, besides solidarity in their single statuses. Case in point, James’ complete failure to ask Evans to the Gryffindor party in Hogsmeade before some sixth year had.

“Relax James, we still have the Halloween party to look forward to,” Remus responded dryly from where he sat on the furthest bed, attention mostly buried in his fifth book that week alone. He’d marry one at this rate.

“Exactly, you can always ask her out again next time.” Sirius patted him consolingly, before making his way to his trunk. 

“If she lets me,” James corrected. 

He hadn’t gotten the nerve to even speak to her again for the past week after Lily had exploded at him more angrily than usual at that party’s conclusion. 

Understandable, since he’d been a right turd to her date. But in James’ defense, Leon Beudlum was a massive prick in general… currently wooing the love of James’ life not-withstanding.

“Have you ever tried giving her flowers... girls like that, right?” Peter added unhelpfully, sitting on his bed across from James a little too excitedly. “Maybe lilies?” 

James snorted. “No, I don’t think she’d much appreciate it, Wormtail.” 

Giving her flowers that had inspired her namesake would only make her laugh aloud at him. 

Though that expression on her face wouldn’t be half-bad to see...

James sighed, taking the moment to clean his glasses. He peered at his friends briefly as he was prone to do the rare moments he could look at anything without glasses.

His friends were their typical colors. Sirius was dominated by his black hair and pinpricks of grey for eyes. Remus was dirty blonde with blue. And Peter was just a fainter, smaller version of Remus.

Putting back his glasses on, his friends were relatively good lookers—though it was a bit generous to call Peter that. But James liked to think he can best them all… minus Sirius. He was not vain enough or too proud to call it anything but an even tie. 

And it was hard to be competitive with someone you were packaged with. He and Sirius just accentuated and complimented each other. As a bonus, they made an even more alluring picture for girls together than apart- whatever their preferences.

That was what made the two of them so intimidating together, and that was also why James liked it, liked Sirius, and all the trouble they got up together. Two peas in a pod. 

Except when it came to James’ captivation with Lily. Perhaps that was a good thing.

He didn’t want to think who Lily might choose between the two of them if Sirius was ever interested in her as well.

But there were real and more pressing potential candidates for her affection. And they were _everywhere._

James was not the only one who appreciated the beauty of Lily Evans.

He saw her laughing loudly with an objectively pretty bloke with deep auburn eyes between classes. He recognized the boy from Ravenclaw’s Quidditch team. 

Just went to show, rivals came in all shapes and sizes, not just Slytherin.

James wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping as he made his way to lunch to meet up with the other Marauders, having forgotten his book for Herbology in his dorm. They were talking about magical creature heritage. Apparently, due to a harpy in the family, the Ravenclaw in question had unnaturally good vision. And Lily sounded genuinely intrigued.

Evans laughed, looking closer at the other boys’ eyes. “That’s impressive.”

The compliment made the boy’s face seem more punchable than pretty suddenly.

“What else can you see?” she asked.

“Many things.” He beamed at her. And then he was standing _dangerously_ close. “For example, did you know your irises are actually three shades of green?”

James was already bounding towards them before he could utter a single color.

“If it isn’t, Evans!” James called out as he made his way over to them. Both had stepped back unconsciously to make room for James. _Much better._

“And Marshall, wasn’t it?” He offered out his hand in greeting.

Lily looked immediately put off. Funnily enough, less so than James had expected. 

The Ravenclaw didn’t miss a beat, taking his hand in a relaxed hold. “ _Maris_ , actually.”

“Ah, my mistake.” James smiled, all teeth. As always, emboldened by Lily’s presence.

“It happens.” The boy shrugged out of the handshake, un-baited.

“Happened to hear that you know what shades Evan’s eyes are.” He pointed to Lily without looking at her, keeping the other boy’s focus on him. “I’ve always wanted to know.” 

He gestured toward her face. “Is it more _brussel sprout_ or _spinach_ -green?”

At the comparison of her eyes to vegetables, Lily did turn fully irate then.

As James intended, Evans huffed and turned to leave, voice angry-edged.

“I’ll see you later, Maris.” She ignored James completely as she left. At the very least, Lily Evans was always predictable for her unwavering knack of finding James intolerable—so he could always depend on his ability to tick her off. And there was no one better at it.

James looked smugly across at the other. But Maris didn’t look upset in the least, still studying James with mild interest.

“I can still do your eyes if you wanted.”

Before James could laugh in his face or do something equally clever, the other was leaning into his space much like he had Lily’s. The other boy’s irises seemed to dilate and fluctuate slightly as they closed the gap between their locked gazes.

It was uncanny.

“Small flecks of cerulean and cornflower blue transitioning to a mosaic of pear, green, and olive melding into gold-brown…”—James was certain he’d made half those colors up—“A forest rimmed by sky…” Ravenclaw’s and their bloody unnecessary poeticism.

Maris hummed thoughtfully. “It’s an appealing combination.” 

“I’m well aware,” James smirked, staring the other boy straight in the eye. He’d always been a looker. And he didn’t need to be told the obvious.

“But did you know?” Maris continued. “Hazel, present at five percent of the population, is rarer than blue eyes, and only second in rarity to true green.” James didn’t know that actually. 

“Though some think grey actually may be the rarest... difficult to tell with how often it’s mistakenly grouped up with blue.” He shifted a centimeter closer, but James stood firmly rooted to the spot, unshaken. His wand already slipped into his now-clasped and ready hand, hidden in his sleeve.

The Ravenclaw’s gaze narrowed on his glasses.

“A shame that your eyewear mutes the impact of their color.” The eyes scrutinizing his glowed oddly, the same time their owner’s smile turned disgustingly smug. “Price of having _human_ eyes I reckon.” 

The way he said ‘human’ was the same as if he said ‘ _blind’_. 

It threw James off enough, he didn’t get a comeback in before the Ravenclaw had stepped back and was already walking away. 

He swaggered off as haughtily as if he’d just proven to have the bigger _vision_ -cock.

James saw red—a different kind—the rest of the day. 

‘Pride’ and ‘wounded’ were never a good combination on him. Neither were old, unearthed misgivings.

And if he took it out on Severus Snape, pranking him in Transfigurations with the other marauders before getting in trouble with Professor Mcgonigal? Well, his friends certainly weren’t faulting him for it.

* * *

James had spent a long time the following morning staring closely at his face in the bathroom mirror both with them on and taken off. He wasn't sure whether there was a big difference. Except that someone wouldn’t automatically know his vision was weaker to need glasses without them on.

Appearance-wise. Maybe his eyes looked the tiniest bit larger? And the color of his eyes more immediate, unframed and with no light reflecting off his spectacles in the way.

(At least they weren’t the atrocious goggles he has to wear at Quidditch, that do not compliment his face at all.)

The feeling persisted up until the rest of the day. He and Sirius sat by one of the larger windows in the library, staring at their books with waning attention and growing boredom. They sat on opposite sides of the table, books and parchment strewn in front of them in a disorganized fashion. 

Sirius had already shut his eyes and used the book as a pillow, quoting his “need for a break.” In that moment of peace and quiet, the need to know became its loudest.

 _Impressive,_ she’d said about somebody else’s eyes. Had she been at all attracted to that prick’s superior vision?

James frowned down at the chapter on transfiguring moving objects. And not something more useful and applicable like permanently transforming defective body parts to be fully functioning.

 _A_ _forest rimmed by sky,_ she’d never say about his. 

James had been very careful to keep his voice even and low when he asked.

“Do you think Evans likes boys in glasses?”

The sudden abruptness of his mentioning Lily Evans out of the blue, his friends were long since used to—apparently, James would think of her at hilarious times. And liked to tease him about it, between their accolades of encouragement of course. But for once, Sirius didn’t laugh at him as he raised his head.

Well, he laughed for a different reason.

“James, if you even doubt your face for a second. Look in the mirror. Your issue with her isn’t looks.”

_Maybe I don’t trust my eyes._

James sighed. “I know. It’s our personalities… clashing.”

Sirius snorted like it was an understatement. Because it was.

“She values rules and you break them,” Sirius said, relaxing again in his chair.

James nodded. “I’m working on that.” 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, incredulously, given their most recent rebellion with authority: stealing Filch’s confiscated adult mags and then some.

“She’ll come around to appreciate the way _we_ see things,” James smirked.

Both grinning again, Sirius settled back lazily into his chair, to resume his nap. The uneasiness had abated somewhat. But a part of James still insisted on not letting the topic completely go. He should, but he wouldn’t.

James sat up straighter.

“Tell me the truth, Sirius,” James said quietly. “Do I look better without them on?”

Sirius made a noncommittal sound, eyes still shut. “James, I’ve seen you without them all the time. Before bed, and in the morning, or whenever you clean them.” 

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “It’s just different, not better or worse.”

That wasn’t good enough for James.

He took off his glasses, setting them down and standing up, and faced Sirius before he could think better of not doing so.

“Well, how _different_ is it?” James insisted, watching Sirius’s eyes open. 

Sirius took his time to answer, his face all blurry at the other end of the table while James tried to focus on it like he could summon Sirius into visual clarity.

“You certainly look much more intense,” Sirius murmured. “...from your squinting as moodily as Filch.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m bloody trying to see you.” 

Sirius stood up out of his chair, making his way around the table to where James was, and James could see him clearly almost instantly. It was relieving to be able to without effort. 

He handed James back his glasses to put back on wordlessly, before giving him his verdict.

Sirius faced him seriously. “You’re worrying over nothing, mate.” His hand on his shoulder warmed him as much as his words did. “I’m being honest when I say you look good with them, and without. You’re one of the better mugs in our year, maybe _best_ even.” 

“There’s no competition.” His hand on James’ shoulder squeezed reassuringly, stepping closer. “And Lily might never say it, but she notices.”

_Lily notices._

“Unless she needs glasses too,” Sirius added, poking his side.

James grinned, a weight off his shoulders and literally, as Sirius’s slipped off. The playfulness returning now that an age-old anxiety had been put to proper-rest.

“Thanks, Padfoot.” James grinned, waiting for Sirius to smile, before adding with a dramatic sniffle. “I knew I was prettier than you.”

“You git.” Sirius laughed, punching his shoulder.

Mirroring him, James punched Sirius back, who traded a few blows himself. And it soon turned into a full-blown laughing scuffle. Their horsing around ended with them getting kicked out of the library by Madame Pince’s murderous look and silently pointing to the door. They returned to their dorm with that story for Remus and Peter. 

Completely worth it.

James trusted Sirius’s judgment more than his own eyes about this, especially more than some half-human-hybrid-git named Maris. It also helped that Sirius himself was good looking, making him a verified expert somehow. So James stopped worrying after that.

And any last resentments were buried, when he thoroughly defeated Ravenclaw in a Quidditch match in record time that weekend. Just went to show his human eyesight was that _good_ to catch a snitch in four minutes.

Lily didn’t act like she was impressed, but he definitely caught her looking his way more than once and not Maris’s. 

She definitely noticed. 

Maybe even a little like the way James always found her red hair.

* * *

The incident that shook his perception of reality—but did nothing significant to the real world—didn’t happen until the middle of fifth year.

James had walked down the hall to meet up with the rest of the Marauders, returning from an unpleasant detention scrubbing the boys' bathrooms in the left-wing corridor with Filch. It had cost him missing his Transfiguration class, but McGonagall had been surprisingly apathetic to this. 

Perhaps because James was doing well enough in it already, after all. And he was being punished in the first place for disrupting her class with his antics last week.

As he made his way around the corner, James’ eyes of course immediately landed on the red hair in the hall. It only took registering the color to summon every warm and heated emotion that seeing it brought about in him... the feeling he linked with one Lily Evans.

Only, _she_ wasn’t there.

Its length was too short to be Evans' long mane, its waves more pronounced, and its alluring bounce too prominent. And when the red-adorned head turned more in his direction, the eye color wasn’t a piercing green, but grey... a grey that somehow didn’t feel _wrong_ being there.

Like every time before, James’ mind processed the color first and everything else a far-off second.

Red, still… cut a little above the shoulders. _Golden_ Red certainly… It framed a pale face and the red-gold strands contrasted wonderfully with silver—familiar and provocative—eyes that it fell across, set in a masculine-sculpted face. 

It was a boy, James recognized distantly with a strange twist in his gut. No question.

But he was _gorgeous._

High cheekbones reminiscent of aristocracy, with a nose the perfect balance between rounded and sharp-edged, atop a painfully playful grin of white teeth that egged James on, and a saunter that made James’ pants quickly uncomfortable.

Before he knew it, those eyes were looking straight at him. 

As the distance halved between himself and the unreal boy before him, the beautiful ginger boy he’d been ogling... became none other than _Sirius_ coming his way.

Sirius, red where he should be ebony, strolled toward him with Peter and Remus now obviously trailing on either side of him.

All the rampant attraction of before was momentarily shoved away for immediate shock, an echo of fearful self disgust, and utter confusion so strong—with both himself and Sirius’ new color scheme—it bordered incomprehension. 

Words were lost to James.

“You look like you’ve just seen Lily Evans,” Sirius joked, looking way too pleased with his current state.

“Or her ghost,” Remus added while Peter mumbled something unintelligible.

Sirius strutted in a circle, laughing at his _redness_ but sporting it perfectly. And James’ eyes wouldn’t leave Padfoot even if he’d tried.

Blinking did not relieve them or change Sirius back to black. 

“Sirius got caught in a spell,” Remus said by way of explanation, while James was still silent. “Transfiguration mishap while Peter was practicing his aim this morning.”

Peter blushed guiltily, speaking in an earnest rush that sounded like he’d said it many times before.

“It was an accident,” the smaller blonde insisted. 

“Accidentally on _purpose_.” Remus laughed.

Peter immediately turned to him, defensive. “I was trying to make Snape _magenta_ , Moony.”

Sirius himself looked quite unperturbed and even enthusiastic with the change.

“Well, how do I look?” Sirius popped his hip, and put his hand on it, posing like a model. “I think I make a damn good ginger.”

Even his eyebrows and body hair on his arms were all red. 

Sirius fluttered his _ginger_ eyelashes in the most debauched way possible, which was a cue for James to laugh. 

But James couldn’t.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” James said, louder than he should, stunning them.

Soon they were all laughing at his honestly befuddled and distraught reaction, Sirius all but doubling over.

“You ought to see your face, James.” Sirius was nearly hysterical as he rested his hand on James’ arm, as the red-red- _red_ affliction inside James doubled.

No. James needed to _not_ see red. Or stop seeing Sirius with it.

But Sirius took away any chance of visual escape from him, looping his arm around James’ shoulders in his usual manner. And then they made their way to the Great Hall, still chuckling. 

The whole walk, James couldn’t smile, too baffled and perturbed to find any humor in the situation. He found suppressing his internal crisis hard enough without also being unable to forget it with Sirius’ red hair in his constant periphery. 

But the others were too busy laughing at his expense to notice how seriously uprooted he was in that brief moment he first set eyes on the redhead, and how alarming it had been to recognize them as Sirius only after the then-stranger had _excited_ him.

_And now?_

James refused to answer himself for his own sanity.

Black’s new redness occupied James’ entire focus and thoughts with a disturbing intensity well after the rest of his friends had moved on to other topics. Glancing at the newly ginger Padfoot for the hundredth time in a minute, James didn’t understand why his attention was so stuck _._..

Like when he only had eyes for Lily, except that it was Sirius who had been unknowingly altered to be James’ exact type.


	2. Ginger Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ginger up - to make more interesting or lively_  
> 

Such a superficial difference in Sirius upending James’ perception of him was uncalled for.

Methodically, James ate away at his plate stacked full of savory food, hoping his taste buds would preoccupy his senses enough to be distracted from Sirius being blatantly ginger in the seat next to him. A fact that remained unsettling with just how unfairly _appetizing_ it—and Sirius by extension—abruptly seemed.

James’ efforts were made easier with that night’s menu having one of his well-loved meals: bangers and garlic herb mash. No one to James’ knowledge had yet to make crispy-skinned, flavorful sausages of the same esteemed quality as Hogwarts’ house-elves. And he had never been more grateful for such a convenient excuse for his lack of verbal participation.

As was his habit with Evans, James didn’t trust himself to not run off his mouth in the presence of such vibrant red hair, that he was still unused to being on Sirius.

His friends, thankfully, knew better than to expect engaging conversation from James when he was too busy stuffing his mouth full of his favorite food to offer more than a listening ear, or nod here and there.

Still, James couldn’t help but peer sideways at Padfoot from time to time, wondering why he seemed so _different._ Keeping his face neutral, James discreetly reassessed Sirius—top to bottom—to understand how exactly he’d managed to mess up so badly in not recognizing immediately the one person in his life he knew best, aside from his parents. 

The obvious answer seemed to bob and weave tauntingly in time with Sirius animated movements: that _bloody red hair_ … the thing James had noticed first in that corridor, rather than the face under it.

With the calming balm of a fuller stomach and the worst of his earlier panic passed, James’ calmer judgement made its reappearance. And with it, came all the rationalizations James needed to hear.

_At first, it wasn’t really Sirius you saw._

James watched as Sirius laughed, staring through his face like he might be able to see past the red and see the typical Sirius he knew again, with no new, unwelcome sensations attached.

_You didn’t know it then so whatever you felt doesn’t matter now._

It should be more startling that James had been able to have such a response to a boy at all, never having done so before. But the fact the boy turned out to be Sirius was far more troubling than if it had been a complete stranger.

At least then, James could well have enjoyed it.

_Whatever you felt, it was just the red hair. Not really Sirius._

‘Really Sirius’ leaned forward to whisper something to Remus across the table. Doing so made the slope of his neck stretch while James caught a glimpse of more-gold-than-red, soft-looking fine hairs along Sirius’ nape. Peter’s magic had been too thorough—this was no dye-job.

Looking at Sirius’ scarlet-gold roots, no one would have any way of knowing Sirius had ever donned black locks or was anything but a born ginger.

This thought only made Sirius’ transformation more unnerving.

_It still is just the red hair. No better than a wig… a disguise… a trick…_

James had been fooled only for a few seconds before he realized his mistake. But that had been enough to continue unraveling him. 

He clasped his fork tighter in his hand and chewed the sausage a little more violently than necessary, eyes determinedly on his plate while something foreign festered, agitated and unforgiving. 

That something felt a lot like the beginnings of anger. At who or what in particular, was difficult to say. Maybe it was the unwanted color-coded emotions themselves... Or knowing that this red in his vicinity, as alluring as it seemed, unlike Lily Evans, was _fake_ and unattainable. But this didn’t stop James from being affected.

_He’s your friend. Can’t forget that._

The only thing James understood without a doubt, was this current version of Sirius—at no fault of his own—bothered him greatly, as if it was some unspoken rule that it was forbidden for Sirius Black to also come in Red.

For good reason. The resulting discomfort and entirely unnecessary disorientation on James’ end were prompted by this single color change. It would seem just as ridiculous to Sirius too if he knew.

Red had always meant something different to James, and it had been separate from his friendship with Padfoot—as it should—until today.

Sirius laughed again, loud enough to give James pause. The way he threw back his red head of hair and the tendons under his throat’s skin flexed was too eye-catching, and too oblivious to James’ inner turmoil it encouraged. It had fast become obnoxious how much Sirius was inadvertently riling him up. And James couldn’t even respond.

_He’s not doing it on purpose. This is all you._

Or more specifically, this was all James being suddenly more than capable of _potentially_ fancying Sirius’s face as a stranger— _after five years of no interest that way_ —and yet not as capable of recognizing him immediately— _despite said five years of being his best mate_ —once Sirius had taken on a particular hair color.

Perhaps, even with his glasses, James really was blind. 

He speared another large bite of his food, despite feeling more than stuffed by now. It’d be better if his stomach was empty all over again. At this rate, James wouldn’t be able to keep busying himself with eating and they were only half-way through dinner.

This situation wasn’t any fairer to Padfoot either. He wouldn’t want James to suddenly have less than platonic desires for him. Their perfected friendship wouldn’t be as satisfyingly reciprocal. 

It wouldn’t be the same… Wouldn’t be _them._ But then, Sirius felt like someone else right now.

_If only Sirius got rid of it._

Actually... wasn’t it that simple? 

As of now, James’ eyes might helplessly keep following the scarlet hair and where—or to who—the ends of it led. But as soon as it was gone, James would be over it. Because in reality, Sirius wasn’t really red, nor would he be long-term.

So none of this was real.

And James was doing himself a disservice by taking any of it seriously. Sirius was still his closest friend and James knew these feelings, deep down had to be his long-running obsession with red.

Sirius was already compelling enough as it was, always leaving a strong impression on people. Adding that to red, _of course,_ James would be thrown for a loop. Besides, aside from his hair, it was mostly Sirius’ face doing things to him. James wasn’t necessarily drawn in by more than that.

Armed with that fact, it pacified him enough to start to truly calm down and slow his eating. 

James only had to wait for Sirius to lose it and get back to normal so that James could too. He would just have to manage acting normally until then. Easy enough.

Sirius turned in his direction and offered James a lazy smile that was just Sirius being Sirius, and not seductive in the slightest…

“I think I’ve been getting more attention lately.” Sirius raised his eyebrows suggestively, pointing his eyes to the Ravenclaw table adjacent to theirs, where the fifth year girls sat. As expected, Sirius already had captured a giggling audience. “Starting to feel shy.”

No bigger lie had ever been spoken.

“You’ll live, I’m sure.” James elbowed him out of habit more than any conscious thought, ignoring the way the familiarity of the interaction was interrupted by Sirius being red.

Sirius smirked and turned back forward to make unabashedly flirtatious faces at the girls, which would even make Filch blush. 

James took to stuffing himself with a smaller third helping after all, in order to ignore another unforeseen appetite of his altogether... if he didn’t make himself sick first.

* * *

Somehow James survived dinner with only his stomach as a casualty.

James laid on his bed in the dorm, hand hovering over his sore belly, while he seriously considered the logistics of banishing half its contents. He was sick to death of bangers and mash, and rapidly descending into a food coma.

For lack of anything better to do, James groaned repeatedly in complaint of the consequences of poor eating habits.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat so much,” Remus remarked while exiting the bathroom. 

James didn’t even bother sitting up to respond. “My eyes were a little bigger than my stomach tonight.”

“That’s an understatement. Even Remus doesn’t wolf that much down on the full moon.” Sirius flicked his stomach and James kicked him half-heartedly in the shin, eyes firmly shut as he did so. If he saw red too right now, he might vomit.

“Bugger off,” James muttered, opening his eyes just enough to peek at the silhouette of Sirius who had gone hunting for something in James’ drawers. “I’m still a growing boy… or something.”

There really were no boundaries between them. What that meant for James at the moment was less certain.

“Definitely something gluttonous,” Remus intoned, blithely ignoring James’ rude gesture in response.

“You’re tall and fat enough, Prongs.” Sirius laughed, tossing one of James' pair of socks onto his own bed. His feet always got cold and he never seemed to have enough of them, which meant James eventually didn’t either. “Spare some vertical centimeters for Peter, here.”

James snorted, despite the bellyache that doing so gave him.

“I’m not _that_ short,” Peter piped up, indignant. It was the one thing Peter remained hilariously in denial over.

“Wormtail, you’re _tiny_ and that’s a fact.” 

The ensuing roughhousing sounded suspiciously like Sirius had successfully tackled Peter in a headlock, followed soon after by Peter’s feeble cry of “ _Mercy!”_

James chanced opening his eyes fully for a bit.

“Maybe we should start pilfering some Miracle Grow from the greenhouses,” Remus suggested jokingly.

“And a shrinking potion while we’re at it.” Sirius brandished his finger at Remus, his smile wicked as he hopped off Peter who righted himself, wheezing. “Don’t think I don’t notice you’re trying to outgrow us all, Moony.”

Even now, with James’ stomach near bursting, Sirius’ firey hair matching his wilder grin seemed more than palatable. Selfishly, he almost wished Sirius generally didn’t have such an absurdly appealing face.

“Blame my taller parents,” Remus said, smirking while dodging Sirius’ obvious attempt at measuring their rather tame height difference.

James shut his eyes right back up again.

As everything around him settled into routine, he felt the last of uneasiness within him taper off enough and he began getting ready for bed.

James’ plan for the night was simple. He’d sleep the novelty of ginger Sirius off, and hopefully, his reaction and any residual emotions to the anomaly would be gone by morning. Or whenever Sirius would change it back.

Worse came to worse, tomorrow he’d only have to pretend it didn’t matter to him that Sirius wasn’t his usual black-haired self.

Slipping off his glasses and settling into his bed, he determinedly faced Sirius' like all nights he had before. As the lights of the room went off and their room descended into darkness, his friend’s hair was indiscernible from red or black.

* * *

But come morning, Sirius Black was no less distracting.

James’ strategy to play dumb and not put much stock in his fascination with Ginger Sirius was all well and good, but it did little to stop his eyes' hellbent agenda to stalk Sirius somehow worse than they had Evans.

For all accounts, getting his attention thoroughly derailed by his friends was normal behaviour for James. The marauders were constantly distracting each other with their different mischief or exploring hidden passages in the castle to broaden the borders of their ever-growing map.

But for a multitude of reasons, this sort- of distraction was wholly different. And completely ignoring his best friend responsible wasn’t an option.

Throughout their classes together, James was slowly devolving into impatience. Whatever act of nonchalance he’d fostered yesterday, he was prepared to forgo completely and buy Sirius a solution to his red-hair situation and be done with it.

This strictly physical attraction, as far as James knew, was a thorn in his side, but not completely irrepressible like whenever James was interacting with Evans. (Though, that might have more to do with his never having much reason to hold himself back with her.)

Only, this was more troublesome because Sirius, being Sirius and James’ friend, was always at his side. In the presence of the constant visual stimulus that was Black, James hadn’t had a break from the general sense of being painfully _provoked_ for the last three hours since he’d woken. Even physically at some points—Sirius had always been rather handsy, case in point being Sirius hanging off his shoulder all through breakfast. Another completely normal action made odd with his being red.

James’ foot tapped out a rhythm of agitation under the desk that got Remus’ notice. But he ignored Lupin’s disapproving look in favour of scrawling more notes than he could remember taking all year prior.

Because however much Moony thought he was being distracted by James right now, James was a thousand times worse off with his mind completely engrossed with Sirius in red.

So taken up with Sirius’ hair—especially with his head now bowed and pillowed in his arms—like he was, for the last ten minutes his lecture notes on his parchment had become partially drenched by his overturned half-full inkwell. And James, being so absorbed in his task of not obviously staring at Sirius while definitely staring at Sirius, was none-the-wiser.

Remus, who had been giving him the cold shoulder for his loud fidgeting, hadn’t had the wherewithal to give him notice of this happening. So James didn’t realize it until his sleeve felt oddly damp and likely stained. At least Moony, seeming to come to terms that James was having one of his ‘off’ days, helped him clean it up.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice the mishap behind him, already asleep from Professor Binns’ droning voice, but Peter glanced back at Remus and him curiously.

“ _Try_ not to spill this one,” Remus said quietly as he set his own inkwell between them, an action that was more meaningful than at first glance. It was well known between the Marauders that Lupin’s parents had spent an absurd amount of money seeking a cure for their son’s Lycanthropy during his childhood. And Moony’s desire to not be a greater burden on his family often expressed itself in his stretching out his allowance and avoiding requesting things of his parents, even when he sorely needed them.

James grinned gratefully at him, making a mental note to buy Remus a new one with refilling ink. 

Unfortunately, clearing his mind wasn’t as easy as cleaning his desk. And James gave up the pretense of taking notes at all during his other classes, trying to daydream through his sudden onslaught of needing to see Sirius all the time, instead. As if his being red, needed any further confirmation.

The events of the rest of the day might as well not have existed... with how much Sirius’ now day-old hair stole James’ already short attention span, and already more than it did yesterday.

It had become increasingly obvious within these twenty-four hours of first seeing it... that James had, yesterday and everyday before it, taken for granted just how _good_ looking Sirius Black was. Surreally, so.

He had no trouble admitting that, objectively _._ It was a fact he’d thought he’d always known. And certainly, it had to factor in some manner within their friendship like most people, that Sirius was aesthetically pleasing and additionally likable and charming for it. 

But actually personally _feeling it,_ experiencing for himself how strikingly attractive Sirius must have been to most girls and some boys too, was a different matter. Rather than the elevated intensity of Sirius’ physical appeal itself, what bothered him more was why and why _now_.

James couldn’t understand how one color could change everything when really it hadn’t changed anything.

Sitting in their last class that day, James pretended to be listening to Slughorn but really watched Padfoot next to him, chin resting in his palm lazily.

Sirius still had the same haircut, same hair (just not black), same face, and same brilliant grey eyes. Same nose. Same roguish smile. Same laugh.

_Same Sirius._

But knowing Sirius was Sirius, didn’t make his hair less red. Or seem to stop his brain from wanting to recategorize him altogether.

While James had always had a type, or greater _inclination_ toward gingers, no one had ever quite caught his eye like Lily Evans. That was part of what made her so special.

Until Sirius, now.

But couldn’t that be easily attributed to Sirius’ hair becoming the root of all temptation, rather than Sirius himself? Because he’d certainly been completely off James’ more amorous radar until Peter incidentally turned him into James’ exact preferences. Which only required _one_ change to do so? It seemed too far-fetched.

So how much of it was the red complimenting Sirius, or Sirius complimenting the red? Or was it just the whole set, red hair _and_ Sirius together, that James newly appreciated? If everything else of Sirius had already lined up to James’ specifics minus the hair, James didn’t think he was that red-obsessed that he would ignore Sirius that way, if there was evidently something there to work with.

But maybe it only appeared that way, now when his hair was red.

There was something disingenuous about it.

It could just as well be that if James was attracted to the hair itself—which was definitely the case—then maybe he was also viewing Sirius as a surrogate for Evans… Whose similar, if slightly paler, shade of long red hair he was hardwired to adore?

And now that Sirius wore it too, James’ brain was doing its best to make Sirius out to be something he wasn’t otherwise.

Yes.

That had to be it. What other explanation was there for half a decade of close acquaintance without this mess of seeing _Red_ first and _Sirius Black_ second?

Really, if he’d been going to react this strongly, James was surprised he hadn’t had this problem earlier with how many witches and wizards are redheads. Maybe they just weren’t Lily’s and Sirius’ particular shades.

Sirius turned his head then to give James’ a significant look, before mouthing exaggeratedly, “ _Bored_.”

Reading his lips, the first _entertaining_ activity that popped into James’ brain for them to do was less play and more _kissing_. Full blown mouth to mouth. It was more than a bit startling, being something he was only supposed to picture with Evans. And reminding himself of his devotion to her didn’t stop it.

Without even really thinking about what he was signing up for, he mouthed back, “ _Map, later_.”

Sirius grinned, knocking his knee into James’ before turning his attention forward again, already looking livelier. 

And still worth snogging.

 _It’s official_ , James thought grimly. He’d started to react to newly ginger Black like he would Evans. His visual appreciation of the former had turned into impulses to _act_ on it _—_ much like James’ insubordinate knee which had been inching back toward Sirius’ warmth without his looking. 

James quickly stilled it.

* * *

Before James did something foolish, Sirius could do him a favor and bloody change back already.

Three increasingly poor nights’ sleep and Sirius _still_ hadn’t asked Madame Pomphrey for the potion to change his hair back to black like he mentioned he would two days ago. That passing comment had been enough to get James’ hopes up.

He didn’t get what Sirius was waiting for.

James was already exhausted from constantly suppressing his new unwanted desires. That and he never knew if the red in the distance was Lily or Sirius, reacting to both the same and unable to escape the latter. It was the same feeling he’d have when he wasn’t wearing glasses and squinting at things further away. _Visually confused_. As things were, this disruption to normalcy had gotten well past maddening.

Worse, he was the only one being negatively affected for what everyone else seemed to hardly mind or freely enjoy. Remus and Peter couldn’t care less beyond making jokes about the situation. They even had a name for ginger Sirius now, ‘Sirius Red’ as if _Sirius Red_ was there to stay. And he was just as much a hit to other students as Sirius Black was, just that extra bit of intriguing because he was _different._

And that difference had propelled James’s mind into a perpetual state of _indecent._

James’ odd reactions were worsening instead of improving the more self-aware they became. And Sirius’ typical teasing—practically flirtatious—behaviour with others only added to James’ crumbling sense of sanity. Because Sirius couldn’t just be handsome, but _lewd_ too _._ If that had more to do with him being too pretty or too dramatically obnoxious was debatable. Most likely, the combination of the two.

At least when he saw Lily, his attention was finally lifted from Sirius. But glimpses of her weren’t as common as James would have liked, compared to Sirius who was in his immediate circle. Because the thing was, amidst all this weirdness, his sincere attraction to Lily hadn’t changed. And when both were in the same room, Sirius only won out James’ scrutiny because he was always within reach and James still wasn’t accustomed to Sirius’ redness.

But rather than any allegiance his affections felt they owed Lily, the greatest regret James had in all this was the way he can’t just _relax_ around his best friend anymore.

Being in Sirius’s presence had been suddenly the exact opposite of relaxing and comforting he had always associated it with. _Seeing_ Sirius wasn’t producing the same emotions and familiarity James had always been happy with and even _fulfilled_ by.

Engaging with Sirius as he was now, had become, instead, taxing on his nerves. James was stressed all the time with emotions he didn’t want for a person he already deeply cared about. And he was constantly being tested.

Sirius at the moment was out of view, searching for something deeper in the library with Remus, giving James a small window of reprieve with the quiet presence of Peter while they waited for them at one of the library’s tables. Moments like these without his friend were very rare, as it turned out. Because James’ days and life had always been filled to the brim with Sirius.

James hadn’t realized just how much until now.

Too soon, or too late for the part that enjoyed looking at him, Sirius, hair as red as ever returned from the library shelves with an ancient looking book on _Name Tracing For Wartime Magicians—_ No one called wizards ‘magicians’ anymore—along with Remus, both looking triumphant. 

Almost immediately, James felt himself go on edge, having to _control_ himself again. He wished the color could at least fade.

“That’s from the restricted section, isn’t it!” Peter immediately swung around to stand beside them on the other side of the table, looking over it excitedly.

Sirius elbowed Remus, with a grin. “Perks of being a goody-goody _prefect_.”

Remus shoved him back, smirking. “Because my bailing you lot out of trouble isn’t an advantage enough already?”

James blinked, reading over the title again and staring at it in disbelief. “Is this what I think it’s for?”

Remus and Sirius shared a look of equal mirth before Remus opened the book in front of them.

“It’s a spell that was created to fortify castles,” Remus said, in his element as he opened to the relevant section being referenced, “by letting the caster know both the identity and location of everyone within its boundaries… and better detect names that shouldn’t be there.”

“Like Professors,” Sirius interjected.

They all shared wicked grins.

Remus’ finger tapped the aging parchment. “This will definitely let us know who’s around so we can move about easier.”

James still couldn’t believe it. “So we’ll know where everyone is in the castle?”

“Even the ghosts,” Sirius answered, beaming.

“ _Wicked_ ,” James breathed.

“What about animals?” Peter asked. Good question considering the number of times Mrs. Norris had snuck up on them, and once even almost devoured Peter as a rat. Not to mention, their animagus forms.

Remus’ brow furrowed a minute as he read further before he was smiling again, even bigger than before. “It says, _so long as it’s sentient and has a name_.”

Peter spoke for all of them when he said, “Brilliant!”

Their enthusiasm and ambition were infectious, amplifying each others’ to the point where they all looked feverish with it. Sirius grinned like a right _menace_ , and James, already intoxicated with excitement, barely resisted the urge to plant his mouth on his. Instead, he squeezed his hand under the table until the pinch of pain brought him back to his senses.

His preoccupation with ginger Sirius was only getting worse.

When he brought his hands back on the table to start working with them on integrating and tinkering with the new spell, he almost didn’t notice Peter looking somewhere other than the map rolled out before them.

Following his gaze, James saw the indents of nails on his own palm, one deep enough to spot with a little blood. He quickly shook his arm so his sleeve happened to slip down his wrist, feeling paranoid.

But Peter wasn’t looking anymore—he probably hadn’t even noticed and wouldn’t know what it was from, to begin with—and was laughing at something Sirius had said. 

James was just prone to overthink everything lately.

Over the next three days, they were able to complete the addition of names popping up the map seamlessly. Sirius also had the idea to add footsteps, so it wasn’t just names swimming around. And during that time of painstaking spell layering in the company of friends, James almost got to forget his attraction to Sirius.

The only name they were never able to explain was some “ _Riddle_ ”, whose name tag never moved, that Peter swore up and down he spotted _inside_ a wall on the map. But when they went to explore it, they were disappointed to find nothing where he’d pointed it out. The name of whatever it was didn’t appear to anyone else or Peter again.

Beyond that, it worked perfectly.

* * *

A few days later, between classes, Sirius eyed himself up in the small mirror in the common room, making different faces into it and looking more and more pleased as he did so. 

He narrowed his eyes, and tilted his chin just so—“How shaggable am I?” Remus made a choked sound, caught somewhere between amused and scandalized on principle. 

It was a good thing that question was rhetorical. James wouldn’t even know where to begin with his own appraisal of Sirius’ new look.

Fortunately, it became apparent Sirius was more immediately interested in the school’s general consensus.

“Right.” Padfoot turned to the rest of the common room’s residents, cutting into the middle of the room and quickly grabbing the attention of any who weren’t already looking at him. 

“Me as a ginger, Yay or Nay!?” 

Of course, they responded to him with surprised but quickly resounding ‘ _Yay’-s_.

Immensely pleased but never so easily satisfied, Sirius began asking the rest of the Gryffindors present—boys and girls alike—for their opinions, beginning with some poor first year who looked deathly nervous just to be talking to him. James remained carefully disinterested while Sirius was complimented left and right by their housemates of varying years with honest, raving reviews. 

He didn’t even want to look in Sirius’s direction then. James already knew what expression he’d find there. Mischievous joy and an overzealous ego as overgrown and dangerous as the Whomping Willow.

“This is wonderful,” Sirius beamed in James’ direction, looking absolutely thrilled with himself. Really, his being ginger shouldn’t match his every mood so _perfectly._

“Yeah, fantastic,” James agreed, trying to be happy for his friend’s enjoying himself. 

_Torture_ was what it was.

“You all can now call me, Sirius Gryffindor!” Sirius shouted, before parading around a transfigured sword, that was once a broomstick.

It would seem James would have to wait even longer for Sirius to return to his black-haired self.

At least with everyone’s attention on Sirius, it was easier for his own to get overlooked in the crowd, even standing so close to him.

Necessary, since James’ gaze on Sirius could no longer be called purely aesthetic or largely innocent. He’d gotten better at tolerating it, but _accepting_ it was too large a hurdle. Because the Padfoot in James’ mind had been bathing in the gutter. 

Really, the obvious red flags of his mind’s freefalling state in regards to Sirius had begun that first day with the stray, inappropriate thought that had quickly turned more persistent since. And it was only day seven. Now that Sirius’s hair was so red, it framed his face and everything else about him... and made James _notice_ Sirius without fail more than before and more every day. James had nearly memorized him.

The longer he’d been with this version of Sirius, the more he was afraid he couldn’t unsee how much Sirius could tempt him.

If it wasn’t Sirius and another person, he might find it easier to make sense of finding this boy to be his type. But given that it was Sirius, someone he’d known longer than most, it was difficult wrapping his head around it.

So for a moment, James pretended Sirius was a stranger or someone he didn’t know so well, like their other housemates around them. Suddenly it became easier to handle and appreciate his looks, to admit that Sirius would be the kind of boy featured in wizarding fashion magazines... appealing to everyone—aesthetically, and more _heatedly_ to almost as many people—and that included James.

Then without holding back, when asked about this strange, gorgeous boy, he could say: 

‘He’s beautiful enough to _eat_ ’. 

_But he’s your friend._

The red hair looked damningly good with his striking grey eyes. And when he laughed and tossed back his hair, it caused the red waves to bounce, which required James’ close attention.

_Your best mate._

The ends of his red hair tickled around his exposed throat when he leaned it back, the strands of hair making red lines across it. His neck looked both masculine and soft. _Vulnerable_. 

_That’s Sirius you’re looking at._

James could see his pale throat subtly convulse around the sounds it was making.

_Don’t you remember when you could look at him and just feel happy, satisfied, and content?_

_Instead of hungry?_

But knowing who he is didn’t seem to matter. Enough so, that it was becoming obvious, even to Sirius himself.

Mid-laugh, Sirius gave him a funny look. “Is Evans around or something?” He asked, still chuckling.

“She passed by,” James said quickly, keeping his voice casual. “Why?”

Sirius shrugged one shoulder. “You usually only get that face when she’s around.”

James hummed in response. If he looked at Sirius like he did Lily, then what was the difference? Or was there none now they were both the same color?

The red hair had taken over his entire impression of Sirius. And wouldn’t let James, or how he used to envision Sirius, go. So long as it dyed Sirius’ head.

But maybe... _just maybe_ , while his strong reactions to a redheaded Sirius hadn’t changed, James was getting used to it. And maybe it didn’t have to change anything else.

* * *

In addition to regarding Sirius in a new light for the past two weeks, James was beginning to see other things he hadn’t before. While he’d been hiding his sudden strong appreciation for Sirius’ looks, he’d noticed someone else’s eyes on himself. Someone who also happened to be a friend.

_Peter._

Wormtail just might fancy him.

For what it was worth, James didn’t think anyone else had found out.

It was the small things that stacked up on closer inspection: the furtive looks, agreeing much too quickly with James, always wanting to please, and the way he seemed to react even more shyly when James was shirtless. Ultimately, what sunk it in for him was when he noticed that Peter looked at him much the same way James caught himself looking at Sirius, only less like an equal.

And more like a _worshipper_.

It seemed so obvious, yet it hadn’t been so visible to him before. Or just like every color other than red, was he just subconsciously ignoring it? He didn’t know whatever reason his mind had filtered such things out in the past.

But now James was paying attention and seeing things for what they were, regardless if he’d rather stayed ignorant.

This revelation, in particular, made him uncomfortable, in more ways than one. He couldn’t return Peter’s feelings, but didn’t want to hurt Peter either. And imagining himself in Peter’s shoes while wanting Sirius, who might feel the same as James did now… was a reminder of his own situation he didn’t need.

He couldn’t call Peter out on it either, not without making himself hypocritical. And it wasn’t like it was a choice, was it? James understood it now about himself. It was inconvenient and painful to find yourself inexplicably on the precipice of _maybe_ falling for someone who was already in your category of “friend”.

And while exiting class with Sirius to join Peter and Remus coming back from Arithmancy, James couldn’t help but wonder... what wanting a friend to be more than a friend truly meant.

Pettigrew's eyes lit up on James’ again, heartfelt affliction now painfully apparent.

Such a shame for Peter. 

If he wore Sirius’s face with that expression, James might actually give his little friends’ infatuation the time of day.


	3. In the Pink of Condition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the pink of condition - In perfect condition, especially of health_  
> 
> 
> __
> 
> _"It is tempting, but misguided, to assume an association between 'the pink of condition' and healthily glowing pink cheeks of sportsmen..."_  
> 

“Their Horton-Keitch Braking Charm was unheard of during its time, and rumour has it they’re coming out with a new charm that will account for wind speed,” Remus said, facing Sirius animatedly while the marauders were huddled together by the stairs that dropped into the Dungeons. 

They had meant to do some extra studying before the Potion’s exam in half an hour. But like their map, their plans had a way of rewriting themselves... especially when it came to their favourite sport, Quidditch.

“There’s a reason the Comet Trading Company dominated half the broom market for almost 30 years,” Moony continued, voice louder and standing taller than he ever would let himself normally. Lupin seemed most _alive_ when passionately debating facts and sharing history. “You shouldn’t write them off just yet.”

As impressive and useful as Remus’s knowledge was, a part of James understood that much of Remus’ reading was his way of escaping himself and his condition.

“Exactly, Moony. _Half_.” Sirius shook his head like Moony was being daft. “And that’s the same bloody thing people said about their first rival company. Name one professional player in the league that still uses Cleansweeps.”

Sirius punctuated every statement with a gesticulation of his hands as if he had to drive his words home physically. 

“ _Except_ they were right _,_ the Cleansweeps and Comets were evenly matched in sales up till the introduction of Nimbus.” Remus countered as Sirius threw up his arms, incredulously. All the while, Peter’s eyes darted between them, unsure whose side to be on.

“And then Nimbus took off and blew them _both_ out of the water!” Sirius shouted.

Instead of listening to Remus and Sirius arguing over the best brooms yet to be released, James practiced applying his new strategy of looking at Sirius while the other boy was distracted. 

If his eyes were dead set on watching Sirius, then he could at least control _where_ they looked. Doing so involved looking only at parts of Sirius’ face—or sometimes body—at a time and dissociating it from his ginger hair. That way, the _whole_ of him wouldn’t be so overwhelming.

In theory.

In reality, James’ eyes needed no excuse to look at Sirius more closely, able to zone in on Sirius’ features as easy as breathing. But finding the least distracting part of Sirius, which varied minute by minute, was increasingly difficult.

He’d opted to focus on the grey of Sirius' eyes to ignore his red hair. His grey eyes of course had never not been gorgeous, and they were outlined by eyelashes that were also red and long and fluttering... They quickly became too much to look at.

So James moved on to stare determinedly at Sirius’ perfect nose, but somehow that ended up being Sirius’ mouth. And the words that it spoke were complemented by his lips so well. And had they always been that pink—or parted so emphatically—just like the soft petals of his mothers’ roses in her garden that would spread apart invitingly, for James to inhale—

“Earth to Prongs,” Sirius’ mouth called out, now directly in front of him.

“What?” James had been lost to the discussion, minutes ago.

“Did you hear a word I said?” Sirius’ face was too close then, as he peered at James’ face. And James couldn’t think of any words besides an honest—

“Yes,” James said to Sirius’ largely unconvinced expression.

James grinned cheekily, large enough to hide his growing sensitivity to Sirius’ close proximity. “ _A word._ ” 

Sirius frowned, an expression that ought not to look good on him—should make his face uglier—but it unfairly didn’t. Not even slightly. Sirius’ face made every expression, however negative, look good. 

And just as quickly, it melted into a large, amused grin.

Peter piped up ever helpfully. “He’s probably thinking of Evans again.”

“Obviously,” Sirius scoffed, his smile falling off again in exasperation. “He’s got room for nothing else.”

As he whipped his head around, his hair went along with him. It captured the light enough James couldn’t follow anything they were saying in those immediate following seconds even if he was trying to. But it was the slope of Sirius’ upper back and flexing shoulder blades, well below his hair, that James found himself itching to touch so badly words escaped him.

Like a puzzle of intriguing pieces, James’ brain had trouble picking his favourite out of Sirius’ body. It was all good. Maybe he didn’t even need the red to—

Padfoot turned back, holding up the Quidditch magazine they were all meant to be pouring over. He held it out in front of them both, pressing heavily into James’ side as his long, slender finger pointed out the latest Nimbus model.

“So, what do you think? Is it worth squandering your fortune on?”

James couldn’t really see the picture Sirius was pointing to, only think of the _ginger_ hair on Sirius’ arm brushing his own, and nothing else but the terrifying reaction in his pants to the contact.

_This is hopeless._

At that moment, James couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal with Sirius anymore.

“Actually...” James’ capability for language somehow came to, excuses flying by in no particular order. He settled on the only one that felt feasible enough a reason to excuse himself to be alone. 

“Afraid I’m not feeling well,” managed to get past his stomach stuck in his throat. At least, he felt suddenly sick enough to be believable.

“Think I need to pay Pomfrey a visit,” he continued to the surprised faces of his friends.

“Since when?” Sirius asked, a mix of concerned and indignant.

_Since you’ve been red._

“For the last fifteen minutes,” James clutched at his stomach, which was honestly beginning to feel sick of its owner. “Didn’t think much of it earlier but it’s just been getting worse.” 

And hadn’t he believed something similar about his new problem with Sirius? 

“What about the exam?” Peter asked, remembering.

James winced, having forgotten it entirely. “I’ll have to miss it.”

Remus pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on. He regarded James with worry, but he didn’t ask questions. Maybe because, after suffering through many moons, he understood how swift and sudden pain could hit. “I’ll let Slughorn know for you.” 

James winced gratefully. “Thanks.”

Before he could make his escape, Sirius was already grabbing James by the arm to accompany him, the touch instantly worsening his ‘ _sickness’._

“Make that two of us,” Sirius announced, starting to pull him in the direction of the Hospital Wing. “I’ll come with Jame—“

“That’s all right, Sirius.” James fended him off, only a tad too quickly. “I am feeling quite awful and for all we know, it could be catching.” 

He stepped further away from Sirius and the rest of them, ignoring his guilt at the flash of hurt in Sirius’ expression. 

“Better I go to the infirmary myself.” James tried for a grin, but his face wouldn’t relax enough for one.

The kind of tense, tight-lipped look Sirius gave him in response meant he knew something was up and was too impatient to wait for it to reveal itself. He’d been the same way with Lupin's condition. James knew the other would inevitably question him later—for how weird he was being. But James could deal with that then, not this now.

“Hopefully see you lot by dinner.” 

He left before he could be interrogated and have his real symptoms and cause rooted out further. He just wished Sirius knew he was doing this for the both of them.

While he entertained hiding somewhere else instead, James did really end up going to Madame Pomfrey with a complaint of a bad stomach ache. She assessed him and predictably didn’t find anything amiss. But she was kind enough to let him stay and rest in one of the beds anyway, even offering for him to stay the night so she could monitor him. It didn’t seem she had any other patients to look after either.

James agreed if only so he could avoid going to the dorm that night and his friends’ questions, and Sirius himself.

Because James couldn’t stand to be around him without feeling both self-revulsion and confusion.

Not because Sirius was a boy. But, while James had never once imagined or felt any attraction to a boy before, it was alarming and uncomfortable because it was _Sirius._

His best friend. 

Practically his adopted _brother._

And James didn’t want to see him any other way.

But that bloody red hair was adamant to confuse him. 

It was painful and alarming to find someone that he’d casually spoke, played, and laughed with everyday, even shared the same bed with during all nighters… that he trusted to always be his best friend, suddenly becoming something he was never supposed to. Because even when such a beautiful person was so close to him, James got used to it. His looks were just a part of what made Sirius familiar and could be overlooked, lessening their impact. 

It took a small change to shake everything up so James could look at the picture of him fresh and recognize… just randomly recognize something he supposedly already knew about his best friend. 

That they were good looking.

They were _beautiful._

And after it had been almost five years spent together with such a beautiful boy, suddenly it mattered to James dick all of a sudden.

With the curtains drawn around him, James freely curled around himself. The erection he never asked for long since vanished, but the memory of it was still there. And he hated it.

Finding Sirius pretty enough to stare at and kiss wasn’t the same as blatantly getting off on him. The latter felt _irreversible._

He pressed himself deeper into the sheets as his stomach genuinely felt like it was tying itself in knots.

James desperately wanted to go back to not feeling sexual about his friend, for Sirius to go back to being Sirius _Black_. Because it felt too much like a betrayal to their amazing friendship, a relationship—in which they shared everything with each other—that James valued, and he knew Sirius valued too. And because he sorely missed the peacefulness, comfort, and _easiness_ of being with Sirius that it used to be. 

But this was more than about just himself.

Sirius needed their friendship too—had just as much to lose as James and maybe even more with all the times he pridefully called James his ‘real family’ while living with him. And had beamed when James had called him a Potter in all but name. And before all that, that night years ago, when Sirius had tearfully confided in James how miserable and unloved he truly was at home and desperate to get out and James had told him, “ _We’re family too_ ,” and _meant_ it.

He still did. 

But here he was drooling over Sirius like anything but one.

Glasses set aside, he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, holding them there a second. He just wanted them to see Sirius how they had been capable of only a couple of weeks ago. And everything could go back to the way things were.

_If they can’t see the way I want them to, maybe they should just stop working altogether._

James snorted. Of course, he didn’t take the angry childish thought seriously. He only had the urge to laugh at himself because really, who else could his eyes have had this happen with?

If Remus dyed his hair, was James going to suddenly want to kiss him too? Somehow James doubted it. As decent looking as Moony was, Padfoot was in a league of his own. And maybe that was the problem… Sirius accidentally becoming his type when he was already beautiful. 

And when affection, trust, and closeness was already there between them. 

Maybe James never had a chance.

He couldn’t keep this up much longer.

* * *

In the morning, a cowardly part of James didn’t want to get out of the infirmary’s bed. Yesterday he’d acted in the worst way to arouse suspicion. There’d probably be many questions. And there’d been the _look_ Sirius gave him before James had all but run away from them yesterday. 

Still, he couldn’t stay there another day.

Pomfrey’s kind, if strict, bedside manner wouldn’t let her outright scold him this time, but James was sure she suspected he’d used the hospital wing last night for less than honest purposes. And was faking his illness altogether.

But there had been rumours Pomfrey offered a safe place for more anxious students, though James had never needed to request such help himself.

So with her seal of approval, he slipped out without requesting a longer stay and promising to check back in if his symptoms persisted. Even though they both knew he wouldn’t. 

Even if his isolation for the night had been self imposed and reactionary, some old and new parts of him disliked not seeing Sirius for that long. But his pace to the Great Hall was slower than normal as if his feet were postponing the inevitable.

When James met up with them at breakfast, Sirius surprisingly seemed hardly curious of his health as James joined their table.

“Feeling better?” Sirius asked, expression neutral. And James couldn’t detect any anger, which was good. 

Probably.

“Much,” James nodded, taking the seat beside Sirius. 

“That’s good,” Sirius said, smiling but his words were short. He turned back to his plate, dropping the subject.

Some part of James, that secretly wanted to be discovered—if only because bottling it up was so hard when being dishonest to someone he’d only ever needed to be himself with—wished he hadn’t let it go so easily. The rest of him quickly snuffed it out.

“Another stomach ache?” Peter asked through a full mouthful of toast, the front of his robes coated in crumbs like usual. For once, James didn’t feel the urge to poke fun at him for it. He’d gone rather soft on Peter lately since learning Wormtail was kind of in love with him. And it was difficult to tease him as much without feeling cruel.

“Yeah,” he agreed simply, feeling Sirius’ eyes on him. “Something like that.” 

“Just don’t give it to the rest of us if it’s catching,” Remus said, looking James over like a doctor might a particularly diseased patient. “Or warn us if you’re about to keel over.”

Purebloods weren’t known for having resilient immune systems. And Remus, having exhaustively read up on the subject _just because,_ seemed to think both James and Sirius could drop dead to the common cold.

“Obviously.” James resisted cracking a joke about catching werewolf love bites instead, given how much Remus’ wolf form enjoyed playfully nipping at his friends _._ Despite knowing there was no risk of being infected while in their animagus forms, Moony was plenty sensitive about it.

No need to open up someone else’s can of worms while still being served his own in spades.

“So,” Sirius began, lifting the Daily Prophet for them all to see. The image of a smiling seeker flew across the front, reappearing in the middle with a winning smile and shiny snitch in hand. “Who’s betting on the Chudley Cannons beating the Kenmare Kestrels?”

Their section of the table immediately descended into heated discussion reminiscent of yesterday. Despite their holding normal conversation with each other at the moment, James couldn’t help but feel there was awkwardness there. And it wasn’t just on James’ side of things now.

Sirius acting like everything was normal was just another way in exactly how it wasn’t.

Whether Sirius was waiting for James to bring it up himself, had truly believed James was sick and let it go, or if he suspected something and was biding time to spring evidence of it on him... James had no way of knowing.

* * *

If there was something that could make arousal like an on and off switch, James would happily spend his weight in gold on it. Especially now that Sirius wasn’t just haunting him in the waking world, but in his dreams.

James had had a particularly steamy dream which of course involved a redhead with green eyes and then quite abruptly, a redhead Sirius had been there too. Not touching James, but the other girl. It was the sort of odd vagueness typical of a dream, where James knew what was probably happening: Sirius fucking the girls behind while James took her mouth. But he never really looked down below Sirius’ hips for details, more interested in Sirius’ face to see if he was feeling good too like James was with him there.

If Sirius did, he couldn’t remember.

Looking Sirius in the eyes waking up after that had ranged from difficult to downright impossible. At least, feigning sleepiness had been easy enough to cover it up until the intensity and freshness of the dream’s images faded away. Hopefully for good.

Though it wasn’t as if, in James’ wildest wanking fantasies he hadn’t ever been inspired to imagine threesomes. Just typically, it was a nameless and faceless bloke, and the girl, usually Lily Evans, would be at the center of his thoughts.

So he wasn’t sure what to make of last night, where it had been an even match. James could’ve looked at either of them happily, but it felt a little more intense when Dream Sirius had started to look back at him too.

And that wasn’t so bad. Being into threesomes with another bloke wasn’t pushing the boundary of James’ sexuality quite yet, more than it already had. Besides kissing Sirius and getting aroused from his hair—and having threesomes apparently—he wouldn’t really know what to do with him. Or if he even wanted to do anything else.

James felt a small jittery twitch traveling down his back as he remembered Dream Sirius’ last action. Since halfway through, Dream Sirius had been watching James face exclusively instead. And James liked it, being looked at by Sirius the same way he had been, him.

In the dream, he might have enjoyed it. But by the time he was standing next to _real_ Padfoot again and once more finding himself wanting him, he resented it as much as his hospital wing episode the day before. This was just another unnecessary way of things changing, and potentially unable to change back.

James _liked_ not wanting more from Sirius, being content with what they had, which had been perfect. Sirius was his best mate and brother. And their relationship was one where nothing felt lacking between them. Because it was already immensely gratifying and fulfilling as it was. Effortlessly so.

Or had been.

Now it might never be like that again. Not if his mind still saw Sirius Red after the red was gone.

James didn’t want that to change. The idea that it could, terrified him.

_Anything can with enough exposure._

It made him suspect every action he ever took with Sirius from before. Innocuous and otherwise innocent actions like comparing dicks, smacking each other’s naked bums in the locker room, pantsing each other, or straight up wrestling in only their underwear, James suddenly saw in a new light. 

These weren’t things he could do anymore without giving his new desires for ginger Sirius away or keeping them away from himself.

Now that James thought about it, there was one factor that all those things had in common. They were typically—with a few exceptions—the sort of things they did together in private.

So James limited himself to never be alone with Sirius, not until Sirius’ hair was safely black.

* * *

Remus and Peter weren’t there when James walked into their dorm. Only Sirius was, reclining by the window and giving James a lazy—beautiful—grin. It left James truly alone with Sirius for the first time since he’d gone red, and without the two other Marauders to effectively distract and split up Sirius’ attention into smaller, manageable portions.

Engaging Sirius one on one without witnesses was all around a bad idea, but James figured he could at least keep to himself. So taking a page out of Remus’ book on asocial behaviour, he gave Sirius a short “Hey, Padfoot” and smile, before sitting on the bed to occupy himself with studying their latest chapter in DADA, ignoring Sirius’ attention-wanting look.

He soon heard Sirius move about the room but kept his eyes firmly in his book. He tuned out whatever Sirius was getting up to and began reading the latest chapter they were assigned: _How to defend against Flesh-eating Beetles and other Dark Insects_.

Just when he was starting to get to the good part of the rather gruesome tale of a wizard’s encounter with a Venus Human-trap, he heard Sirius speak.

“James.”

James looked up, startled to see Sirius right next to him.

A narrowing of Sirius’ eyes and a growing grin was all the warning James had before Sirius did the last thing James wanted him to do.

He jumped on him.

As he did so, he caught James around the middle, surprising him enough to roll him off the bed and onto his back onto the floor.

“Too easy.” Sirius grinned smugly down at him. “You’re out of practice.”

At least Padfoot was considerate enough to put his weight on James’ stomach to pin him down and not lower.

Egged on despite himself and more than relieved it wasn’t a confrontation about the other day, James shoved at him. “We’ll see about that.”

Almost a minute after struggling to get out from under Sirius proved futile. Like a dog with a bone, Sirius wouldn’t relent once he got hold of you and had you pinned. And James wasn’t up for stretching this any longer than necessary. 

“I give up,” James said, winded. 

In terms of James throwing up a white flag, it was a record, really. They’d done this a thousand times before. But Sirius was too red, and James couldn’t relax enough to find the fun in it.

Sirius raised a ginger eyebrow at him, his lungs equally labored from their wrestling.

“Me thinks you’re giving up too easily, Prongs,” Sirius smirked, hovering unbearably close above him.

“Then you don’t know me,” James smiled, wracking his brain for an out of the situation. “I’m always defeatist,” he added tauntingly.

For a moment, Sirius’ smile stilled and James thought Sirius was going to ask him something.

But then Sirius smirked and laughed at him. “Funny, I don’t remember you having that attitude during last week’s Quidditch match.”

“Quidditch can only be played to win,” James said sagely, ever the fanatic while Sirius shifted his weight slightly.  
  
Was Sirius always this light, despite being relatively the same size as James? No, better not to think of that now, or another creative region of his brain would get _ideas._

“Really though,” James pushed at Sirius’ chest again where he knew he could feel his heartbeat if he wanted but shouldn’t. “Get off me, Sirius.”

Sirius only laughed, not knowing how very serious or desperate James was about Sirius getting off him. Just as James was really starting to get irritated with him, Sirius finally relented, grinning. “Your loss then.”

James almost sighed with relief as Sirius moved to get off him.

“But not before I get my spoils of war,” Sirius suddenly announced.

“What-” James was cut off by the weight of his glasses disappearing from his face and into Sirius’ hand. 

“Use those star Quidditch seeker reflexes, Prongs!” Sirius was already off him and sprinting out their door. “Come and get it!”

James had only a few seconds to collect himself and process what Sirius had just done before he was giving chase.

“Give it back, Padfoot!” He shouted as he darted down the hallway of the Boys’ Dorms where Sirius had already knocked a bunch of things over to make James’ pursuit even more difficult with his vision’s handicap.

Sirius only howled louder with laughter as he ran. And James found himself grinning just as widely.

It almost felt like being in their animagus forms and that kind of freedom just to _run_ after each other. Only they were completely human, but having just as much fun.

It figured Sirius wouldn’t find their earlier tussle enough _play._ Still, chasing him around the Gryffindor dorms was preferable to being pinned down under him. And despite James’ obvious sight disadvantage, Sirius had overlooked one thing. His red hair was too easy for James to spot.

And he’d had way too much practice.

Despite Sirius’ best efforts, as James kept getting closer and closer to the flighty red head, it felt like he was also breaching the invisible distance between them. A distance that had been James’ own fault and he hadn’t realized he’d been feeling all along.

But right then, he felt like the past weeks of fretting and the color red hardly mattered. James and Sirius were never closer or more in sync than when they were playing together and just being _wild_.

In the middle of sprinting after Sirius and hearing him squeal in delight from the adrenaline of being imminently overtaken, James was plagued with his imagination picturing a dirtier end to this chase altogether. But, shaking his head, he dislodged it surprisingly easily. And James enjoyed the game for what it was.

Eventually, he got Sirius cornered behind the armchair in the common room, which James launched himself over at Sirius. It ended with both of them winded and laughing on the floor. And when James silently stretched out his hand, Sirius returned his glasses finally.

As James settled them back on his face, Sirius eyed him skeptically, face wonderfully flushed and grin huge. “You’re _sure_ you need glasses?”

In peaceful moments like these, James didn’t have to think too hard about Sirius being red or not, because loving him like his own brother would always come naturally first to James. In all his life, James would never find someone to have as much _fun_ together with.

James grinned at Sirius, his affection for him surpassing shallow perversions to allow him to reach out and squeeze his friends’ rising and falling shoulders—an initiation of contact he hadn’t realized he’d been missing till now. “Not for catching you, I don’t.” 

Sirius smiled, more warm than playful suddenly. In response, the impulse to touch mouths reared its head. 

James let it pass him by.

* * *

As much as James usually enjoyed and participated in them, it was sort of ridiculous how many of the daily conversations around him involved Quidditch … now that he was so used to having to force himself to pay attention to them instead of Sirius. 

“Don’t know if I like those odds,” Peter mumbled, in response to the news of the Cannon’s new upcoming match.

The Hufflepuff boy—named Gerald Bryant if he remembered correctly—kept talking to Peter about the Professional Quidditch match from last weekend that the Cannons won and the team's future prospects. 

James listened with half an ear while he spotted Remus and Sirius on the opposite end of the hall interacting with a group of Ravenclaw girls. He found himself, inevitably, tuning out Peter and Gerald entirely, more drawn to watching Sirius and the Ravenclaw girls latching onto his arms like little _harpies_.

He was really starting to have a thing against Ravens lately.

Before, James never cared how many girls revolved around Sirius— _Those were the days._ But now that he noticed them, there seemed to always be one too many. 

And as he watched the Ravenclaws continue giggling like mad hens with a critical eye, one bolder sixth year gave Sirius a peck on the cheek, which Sirius received with _gusto_.

The responding possessiveness filled James up lightning quick, gritting his teeth. And demanded that he stake a claim and take out all of Sirius’ suitors in one fell swoop.

_Something something... killing two Ravens with one stone..._

Sirius ought to stop looking at them and look at James.

James stared at Sirius across the hall, feeling himself react further. Hungrily. 

There was no denying it. 

He _wanted_. 

Wanted Sirius tinged red for himself. And only himself. Like James did with Lily.

And James, as an only child and undeniably spoiled, had never been good about _not_ getting what he wants. 

Only it was significantly different than with Lily Evans, who he was trying to win over still. Because in some fashion—all the most important ways, Sirius was already his.

And James did _not_ share.

But as he thought it, the irrational idea that Sirius was more his than he would ever be theirs weirdly soothed his anger. 

Still, he continued to stare his fill at Sirius with such a strong focus, eyes slightly lidded. Right then, he was free to look as much as he pleased without Sirius to notice it… to know. It became easier imagining Sirius as a stranger like this where James could look and want as much as he desired without any guilt attached. 

When the girls and Sirius were finally moving apart, James realized the conversation next to him had gone silent for too long.

When he turned back, the other Hufflepuff was long gone and Peter had stopped talking. He was looking at James oddly—like he had just seen exactly what James was doing. 

And _thinking_.

Peter kept staring up at him, wide-eyed. A look of realization showed clearly on his face, some mix of wounded and _awed_.

That was the thing about Peter. With as much as he quietly _watched,_ he was more perceptive than his shy, ever flitting gaze would make one assume.

James stared back, unapologetically caught in the act, as if daring him to say anything. 

Of course, Peter, obedient as he was, never did. 

Soon Remus and Sirius were joining them. And James interacted with Sirius as if he hadn’t just imagined having him for himself a minute ago.

Peter’s expression remained shocked but his mouth was smartly silent. And no one seemed to notice but Remus, who Peter only shook his head at, muttering something about having a stomach ache of all things.

James, surprisingly, wasn’t too concerned about Wormtail knowing. Maybe because Peter liked him. Or also because Peter often hid his attraction to James, so he could pretend to not know James’ secret too.

But if Peter had caught on, it was only a matter of time before other people that didn’t watch James as closely, did.

And James’ urgency for this all to disappear was mounting. 

* * *

Day number—who knew—because James had lost count and Sirius still hadn’t gotten rid of it. At this point, James was more resigned than upset anymore over Sirius’ inexplicably postponing it. And the reason became increasingly clear.

“I think I might keep it.”

James made a questioning sound, from where he stood near Sirius, just the two of them at the moment.

“The red hair,” Sirius continued.

And there it was. Sirius might go red for good. James felt his fingers twist in his robes, hidden under his sleeves.

As much as James had come to accept his new appreciation for Sirius as a ginger, it was not who Sirius really was. Or who James always knew him as or wanted him to be.

_A Ginger Sirius wasn’t real._

_Couldn’t be if they were to stay brothers._

“Think most people would like it.” Sirius made another lewd gesture and flipped his hair with his hand for laughs. “Might be an improvement even.” 

“Doubtful,” James said before he could stop himself, a bitterness to his voice he instantly winced at.

Sirius blinked.

James loosened his shoulders that had become painfully tight. “I don’t like it as much,” James added honestly.

 _Honestly,_ because he didn’t like how it made him uncomfortable... with how weird it felt for Sirius to be red. And for James to feel things he didn’t want to and have no control over because of it.

 _Dishonestly_ , because a part of him liked it well enough that it’d taken over his entire mind to be obsessively fascinated over. 

Sirius seemed surprised because just like James, he didn’t see anything lacking.

“Really, I thought I was rather dashing.” He reassessed himself on the particularly shiny surface of a larger suit of armor, a slight uncertainty cracking the usual perfect confidence on his face.

“It’s not your face that’s the issue,” James continued, not wanting his friend to think he looks ungainly—which couldn’t be further from the truth. “It’s not bad—in fact, you make it look good. You just look far better with black hair.” He managed to say it only feeling slightly guilty. 

_Because_ _Sirius looked good enough to snog at that very second._

Sirius still faced himself in the mirror-like surface, but he also caught Sirius’ gaze looking back at James in it.

Something he saw there made him feel like a hypocrite. Since a conversation not so long ago where Sirius had genuinely complimented James’ looks, he traitorously couldn't afford to do the same for Sirius, even though he looked downright _delectable._

James couldn’t do him the same honor to say the words: _You look beautiful_. Because James couldn't have Sirius stay that way. Because then he’d still want Sirius, like Sirius’ friend that was also his brother _shouldn’t._

“The way you are naturally just suits you.” And really, that was quite vague. But to the majority of James, it was true enough.

Sirius seemed to glean something from it anyway and looked away from him.

“Fair enough,” Sirius said a beat later, standing up and moving away from the reflection and finally facing James fully. James once again ignored the impulses Padfoot’s smile rose within him. 

He tilted his head slightly. “I’ll give it just a little longer.”

“Alright,” was all James' numb mouth could say. A ‘little longer’ could be anything, but James would take that over _forever_ any day.

“And I suppose...” Sirius mulled thoughtfully, “Sirius _Red_ isn’t quite as catchy as Sirius _Black_ , anyway.”

Sirius spun around, arms stretched wide as his untamable wildness and disdain for his heritage took over. 

“Otherwise,” His grey eyes shined with roguish glee atop a smile that was the face of mischief, “How would I ruin my good family name?”

Completely captivated and more than relieved, James did share a grin with him then. He might even miss seeing this Sirius that was so lovely. But _soon_ James could rest easy and put this all behind them where it was better off.

“Exactly,” James nodded, glad Sirius agreed with him, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

* * *

In the locker room after Quidditch practice, James and Sirius, along with the rest of the Gryffindor team, cleaned themselves up.

While he and Sirius undressed, James carefully kept his eyes to himself even as Sirius struck up a conversation with unerring success. While Sirius was in no rush, James would rather get showered, dressed, and out of there earlier than Sirius would even hit the showers. 

But he wasn’t too worried given that Sirius was always one of the slowest to finish up on account of his enjoying his bath afterward. James had already done this many times successfully before Sirius Red and found it was the only time his eyes couldn’t bear to look at him. And being surrounded by the bodies of a bunch of other guys made it easier. 

So James could afford to take his time for a relatively thorough wash.

He turned on the water, definitely not thinking of any thoughts related to Sirius roughed up after practice and soaking wet. That wouldn’t help clean him any.

Once he was finished, he toweled off and slipped on his change of clothes and made his way outside with a few other members of his team. Only about half tended to shower in the locker room. The other half preferred the greater privacy at the dorms at the cost of having to wait after whoever was in the bathroom.

After setting his Quidditch bag down, he leaned against the wall and waited outside the locker room for Sirius like he usually did.

In the passing minutes, he picked at some grass and waved lazily as his other teammates walked toward Gryffindor tower. The rest of their team was used to Sirius sometimes taking forever. So him and James being the last to leave wasn’t unheard of. 

But well after the last stragglers of their team had left, Sirius seemed to be taking even longer than normal. 

James, who was a good friend and didn’t want Sirius to have slipped and knocked himself out on the tile, eventually convinced himself to go back in there. 

When he came in, the locker room lights were on but the place was disturbingly quiet. James couldn’t hear anything.

Alarmed, he called for Sirius but didn’t get a response. 

Visible from behind the showers, the steam was still rising above Sirius’ stall like it had just been running, but there was no sound. Thinking the worst, James turned the corner and went directly in front of the stall calling Sirius’ name again.

But James hadn’t needed to as his words died a quick death in his throat. 

Sirius’s head was thrown back facing the jet of water, completely safe and at ease. He stood under it drowning out the rest of the world. Or perhaps himself, letting the water envelop his face at his most unguarded and exposed.

And watching him, James couldn’t breathe while the reason for the silence became quickly apparent. 

Sirius had been touching himself. The last of the evidence was being washed down the drain, but James knew an afterglow when he saw one. And the way Sirius’s fingers were rubbing at his own _nipples_ lazily, couldn’t be misinterpreted.

_A silencing charm._

Of course. Sirius would’ve never heard him and James hadn’t heard Sirius even if he’d been making _noises_.

A voice in the back of his head, probably the last of his sanity asked—begged—James to go now.

_Don’t look. LEAVE._

But James was terrible because he looked all he wanted. And he wanted more than ever, making all the times he’d happened upon Sirius under-dressed before feel foreign because none felt like this. He’d never been so _affected_.

Sirius loved to take long luxurious showers. Which James poked fun at him countless times for, both at Hogwarts and his home when Sirius began living with him. He liked to joke that Sirius was slow cooking in there.

But James wasn’t laughing now. 

Sirius’s body was as beautifully sculpted and arousingly painted as his face. It was _criminal_ , how much.

Because watching the water run down his pale skin was driving James mad. Even Sirius’ _body hair_ was ginger. And the rest of him…

Like a magnet to gravity, James’ eyes kept dropping _lower_.

_LEAVE. YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW._

But some part of him, the last part that believed he could will all his problems away with proof, determinedly stared lower with a sliver of stubborn hope. As if his eyes seeing Sirius was a boy clearly would change anything and end this train of thought for good. 

Instead, it was the last nail in the coffin for something James already knew.

It was a cock—clearly, a boy and that mattered.

But to his own, it didn’t. 

It was soft, spent and limp. In a bed of red hair. And it probably felt as soft as it looked. And he’d like to do more than look. 

Distantly, James felt a shock of anguish. That he shouldn’t even be looking at Sirius and thinking of sex. 

Sex with only Sirius.

Like a stubborn insidious idea that once it got stuck in his head, it refused to budge until it took over his entire mind. If only because he reacted so _strongly_ to the thought.

But even that wasn’t enough to convince the boggling voice in his head demanding there had to be somewhere this obsession stopped—and it would follow it through to the end.

Sirius turned his back to the open side of the stall, grabbing for something and giving James a perfect look at his backside. And James watched the water run through Sirius's red hair... down his firm back, slender hips, and into the dip of his smooth bottom.

Instinctively, James felt himself stiffen in horror. Because this was the _final_ line his mind had yet to cross.

Until now.

_What would Sirius look like with James inside him?_

Good because Sirius always looked _best_ , with his pale skin flushed pink, just a lighter shade of—

James ran.


	4. Lily-White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _lily-white - without fault or corruption; totally innocent or immaculate_  
> 
> 
>   
>  _white lie - a lie about a small or unimportant matter that someone tells to avoid hurting another person_   
> 

Horrified, James sprinted to their dorm room without stopping to catch his breath and abandoning Sirius to exit the locker rooms alone. But there was nothing there that could have made James stay. 

Not with the kind of arousal one can’t handle reasonably in public afflicting him.

Somehow James made it into the Gryffindor common room without seeing anyone—most students being at dinner in the great hall—and barging into his dorm room which was blessedly absent of Peter and Remus. 

Once in the bathroom, James slammed shut the door, threw up a _Silencio_ and locking charm for good measure, and sunk to the ground with his back leaning against the heavily warded door. 

Hands flying to his face and dislodging his glasses, the frames clattered to the floor. But James didn’t reach for them. His fingers pressed harshly into his scalp as he hunched over himself as if he could squeeze the unwanted part of himself out.

James’ heavy breathing filled the bathroom, overly loud to his ear. His lungs burned. He was a sweaty mess all over again. He desperately needed a shower—

Like Sirius. 

_Pert arse with a dip that he could just slide into and make himself at home._

Shit.

He wouldn’t touch himself. He wouldn’t entertain the gnawing need inside him. He _wouldn’t_. 

But his hands already wandered down to palm himself through his trousers. So James desperately thought of Lily like a prayer instead, ignoring his guilt at using her while he more urgently didn’t want to see someone else’s face. 

He’d just deal with it, thinking only of her like he had so many times before, easy and _safe._

Lily and her beautiful green eyes that could never be mistaken for anyone else’s. 

Green eyes that _paled and flashed silver_. 

_Grey eyes half-lidded as he looked into the water and the water kept falling and falling over his face, blissfully toying with his own chest._

Stop it.

Feeling didn’t mean he had to act on it. James had _some_ self-control. Except with all his experiences when it came to Sirius, they never held back from each other, always letting loose. 

And with Sirius as the subject of James’ desire, that wasn’t stopping now.

Nor was the desperation to _get it out_ of his system. And he needed to, _urgently._ To deal with it and relieve himself after _that:_ the memory of _him_ still fresh in his thoughts and making James’ breath as uneven and disjointed as his mind.

Even as he was overcome with conflicting emotions, his hands did the work for him. Shakily, they made slow work of his belt buckle, before shoving his trousers and briefs down, exposing his prick.

He was helpless to stop himself from his hand circling loosely around it and loathed himself as the picture of Sirius in the shower played on repeat.

Fuck. 

He squeezed himself at the base, painfully tight as if to punish himself. The pain didn’t take any of the edge off the need to continue.

_Fuck._

He finally slid his hand fully, palm flat to skin, around his heated member, getting that sweet relief. Taking himself in hand, he strangled his aching erection, at the same time his voice choked with both emotion and all-consuming lust.

He couldn’t get Sirius, naked and glowing, out of his head. 

Rather than face reality, the guilt, and the consequences, James suspended his belief and let himself descend completely into his fantasies, succumbing to the addictive morphine that was pleasure. Where he could touch and want and have Sirius as much as he needed. 

And his mind liked to make things believable so it _remembered_. Because James' mind wouldn’t settle for anything but the _real_ things’ inspiration.

It came in a series of scenes because his head was so in shambles, it couldn’t just pick _one._

_Sirius walking toward him like a complete stranger—pretending to be one as some kind of foreplay… and laughing at James startled look, cocking his hip and—_

_“How shaggable am I?”_

_Leading James away to the hospital wing because James was sick. And Sirius saying something he had never said then, but he was now._

_“Let’s take this elsewhere, hm?”_

_Sirius sitting on James’ stomach... only they were both naked and Sirius was sitting on James because he wouldn’t have it any other way... Sirius sinking down on him and looking smugly down because James was too sensitive._

_“You’re out of practice.”_

_Then James was chasing him down the corridors and finally pinning him down. And making Sirius howl for a completely different reason._

_“You’re sure you need your glasses?”—And James’ voice was much more sultry than when he’d originally said—“Not for catching you, I don’t.”_

_And he’d capture his lips and the rest of him instead._

James was nearly stroking himself hysterically. But more than the teasing and the play, James wanted…

_Sirius, with dark hair that quickly turned red, looking at James so closely like he was peering into his soul and all that James could see was affection._

The restless rush of the new images constantly forming from before started to recede. Yet the speed of his hand didn’t. The playfulness, the mischievousness, and the adrenaline were all still there. But the icing on the cake, the most important part... That came before all else…

_Sirius putting his hand on James’ shoulder. “You look good, mate.” Reassuring James... Taking off his glasses... And just standing there to kiss James tenderly. And James kissing Sirius again and again. And Sirius touching James with his hands like he knew James was needing comfort._

Because James needed comforting at this moment, and imaginary Sirius, just like the real one, was there for him always. 

_Sirius with a confident grin, nuzzling James’ neck warmly. And James would get to hold him closer. The best part. Like they were always meant to be as close to each other as possible—_

_“Make that two of us.”_

Sirius would be on James’ side... would always care for him.

_“She definitely notices…,” he’d said. “Because I notice you,” was now spoken._

—Would always see him, because they were like

” _Brothers.”_

James was consumed by a miasma of guilt and lust so thick and entwined enough, that even the guilt might be helping turn him on.

_Sirius would kiss him. Long sweet and slow, putting his hands in James’ hair… Look into his eyes like they’re something beautiful. And James believed him. His mouth opened and took in James’ own as he hugged James closer._

_He’d kiss him lots, all over, not just his mouth, but all over his face… and Sirius would be good at taking it. Could handle taking all of James… like he always had. Maybe he’d whisper how much he loved to… as unconditionally loving and loyal as his animagus form. To a fault._

_Then Nobody else could have him because he was well and truly James’._

The line between what he’d seen and what he was imagining drifted, like Sirius, _hugging him tightly and not letting go._

James wanted to stay forever and never leave. _He was already loved by this person._

 _Lips parting, and Sirius breathing... looking directly at James and promising_ —

James never heard what he was going to say, only knew he wanted to hear it. But it all went white and was wiped away as he spilled hotly over his hand.

Still, James felt the ghost of Sirius kissing him while holding him tenderly and James holding him back. 

Less like just physical attraction. 

But like he _loved_ him. 

In waning residual afterglow, James felt like a Ravenclaw poet all of a sudden. 

_Sirius’s body is a testament to Sirius’s potency himself, that he’d visually stimulate something in everyone else that he himself embodied: an addictive absence of self-control and immediately gratifying impulse._

James should write that down.

Slowly, so slowly, James crashed from the high and slowly came back down to the full sensations of his real body. And not the one Dream Sirius had _cradled._

And the guilt was there, waiting for him impatient and vengeful at being ignored. 

_You’re a bastard._

After touching himself to the image of an unknowing friend that trusted him to not be attracted to them, there was nothing else to call him. 

Except maybe _creep._

And yet It had been the worst-best wank of his life. So intense because his emotions were so high while thinking of Sirius, red and wanting. And James had been lost to the image of him. _Panting to it._

James felt weak...

—to Sirius.

And that was funny, because not so long ago having someone like Sirius had made James feel _strong_ … the two of them unstoppable Titans together, self-made brothers that had no equal.

Yet James by himself couldn’t have willpower strong enough to not use his best friend, and the sibling he always wanted, to get off. 

Because desiring sex was a far cry from wanting a kiss or even a threesome. James was having much more than simply impure thoughts, if he was physically _acting_ on them. And he couldn’t be a real friend wanting something like that from Sirius.

What about his own admirer? Had James been taking Peter seriously since he knew? Would James turn him away if he’d been fantasizing about him?

James wasn’t able to tell anymore. 

He just couldn’t seem to catch a break

It was not enough that James finds Sirius objectively handsome (like usual), or that James found him _sexually attractive,_ as in James’ libido might be more comfortable kissing him or getting him off in a threesome than he’d ever fathomed, but James’ dick could happily shag a ginger Sirius in the arse too. And wanted to do so _tenderly._

—No third party female necessary.

And James could see it... Imagine it...

_Want it._

James was fucked up. Everything was fucked up. This out of everything, felt like he’d gone too far.

How laughable.

James knew much of it was all himself, but he irrationally blamed it all on the red hair.

Still covered in his own release, James banished his clothes off his body, along with the evidence of what transpired in them. It didn’t matter—he had plenty more to spare. And those were _clean_.

Like he ought to be. 

James made his way to the shower, turning on the clear water hot until clouds of steam were all he could see.

He never hated the color red or all the ones that colored himself more than he did right then.

* * *

Mostly out of numbness fueled by his sheer exhaustion, James was able to get out of the shower and face reality again.

By the time he came out of the bathroom in a towel, letting a billowing cloud of steam enter the room with him, Peter and Remus had returned from dinner. They both looked at him quizzically. But Remus briskly walked past James for the restroom, having a more pressing issue than asking James what took him so long.

“Moony’s been waiting for you almost half an hour,” Peter explained conversationally, just as Remus shut the door rather loudly. But James didn’t miss the lead up to a question in his voice.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, sure enough, watching James intently, no doubt detecting he clearly wasn’t.

James didn’t answer, getting into his bed and drawing the curtains around him mechanically while ignoring that strangely empathetic look Peter had been giving him since that day he’d noticed James eyeing up Sirius like a piece of meat. 

Nobody asked him more questions.

James didn’t bother changing into anything more than his summoned shorts and burrowing into his covers, determinedly thinking of nothing.

Sometime after James had lost track of time and started to nod off, his bed’s curtains sprung open _._ There was a drawn-out silence where James, abruptly more alert than ever, kept his eyes shut and breathing even. A long moment later, something was tossed onto his bed before his curtains were haphazardly closed again.

But James refused to look at it, knowing the rustle of his sheets from turning to look would be a dead give away of his wakeful state. So he settled deeper into his pillow, listening to who he instinctively knew was Sirius climbing into his bed while watching the lights turn off.

James listened for Sirius’ telltale deeper breathing but he remained silent, probably using Silencio again, only this time not to—

James turned in his bed, his back to where Sirius’ bed was and wallowed in his misery until the darkness eventually pulled him into sleep.

That morning, James’ quidditch bag was at the foot of his bed. The same one he’d left behind in his rush to flee from his desires toward Sirius last night. 

James stared at it for a ridiculously long time. He didn’t know why it was surprising. Of course, Sirius brought it with him and left it there for him even after James had inexplicably disappeared on him. 

James got himself out of bed, and pretended he didn’t notice that Sirius’ curtains were drawn too. And that he was conspicuously absent from James’ morning routine. 

Sirius’ presence was also unaccounted for throughout breakfast but he finally showed up for their first class, Herbology. Surprisingly, he didn’t look angry, just tired. Their eyes met and James thought Sirius was about to say something, maybe something as simple as a greeting or likelier ‘ _What the fuck happened yesterday_ ’. And James would have listened and answered. 

But the next moment his mind conjured up Sirius red, wet, and wanton, so James completely averted his eyes instead.

He heard Sirius make a shocked sound before scoffing angrily. But James still couldn’t turn back toward him, stubbornly staring at the seats in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Sirius, not even looking in James’ direction, dropped his stuff pointedly next to Remus, leaving Peter to sit with James. James reacted in a predictable fashion, mirroring the cold shoulder and eyes complying for once with his angry direction to pretend Sirius didn’t exist.

The following classes were spent much the same. Remus and Peter kept casting significant looks at each other, probably hazarding guesses at whatever they thought was happening between the two of them when neither Sirius nor James were in earshot.

With Sirius ignoring him and James plenty bitter and defensive about everything before that, he was unable to act normally with his friends to save his life. Feeling unhinged otherwise, James fully embraced his own temper to ground himself somehow and avoided them altogether outside class.

Since seeing Sirius in the shower, it was like James had relapsed into having the emotional maturity of a five year old and he couldn’t handle Sirius’ red hair all over again. Not that he was handling it all that well before. But at least he’d been able to keep up pretenses that he was fine and Sirius hadn’t been totally livid with him.

Now there wasn’t any way James could get out of this situation without making up some other story for at least _three_ things: Why he needed to go to the infirmary alone, why he left Sirius in the locker room instead of staying behind, and why he couldn’t bear to look at him the next day.

It’d have been one thing if these were all clearly separate events, but given how closely they happened together and how out of character they were for James, he’d have to relate and tie them together like they already were for Sirius. Nothing else would be believable.

But the pressure to come up with a feasible explanation for all of it didn’t make it come to him any faster—unlike any other high stakes scenario that would for James. He was plenty good at improvising and telling lies to get himself and his friends out of trouble, but this was different. The one he was in trouble with was Sirius, who would sniff out his bullshit quicker than anyone else just from knowing him so well. 

He’d only settle for the real reason behind James’ strange behaviour. And James knew the real reason, but it wasn’t the one he could tell Sirius.

All because of that stupid, infuriating, disastrous _red hair_. 

Increasingly James couldn’t forgive it till it was gone, the source of his current condition and, so far, silent argument with Sirius. But if he was to go further, James had plenty more fault to pin on others. He’d like to blame Snape for being a generally hexible git, Peter for having a shit aim, Sirius for not fixing his hair quickly as he should’ve, all their housemates who encouraged Sirius’ new look, Filch for that one time of not sticking true to his threat that Sirius would have to change it back per ‘school policy’, Lily Evans for single-handedly hardwiring James’ red ‘type’, and James’ own bloody eyes for not consulting with James’ brain about why sexualizing his best friend was a bloody awful idea.

But above all, James blamed it on _red_ and resented outright the particular _red on Sirius_. He was over it. He wanted it gone, _yesterday._ Because it never gave James a choice of whether he wanted to _like way too much_ what he saw of a ginger Sirius.

It was all the red’s fault.

Once the red hair was gone, it would be done. Over. And this pressing pressure in James’ eyes to swivel themselves in Sirius’ direction the same they do with Lily would disappear. Everything, _back to normal_. It would be like correcting his vision—getting his glasses back on again and seeing everything as it should be.

James just had to wait a little longer.

Until then, both he and Sirius would cool off, and James would make up some excuse about after Quidditch practice, that he had stomach problems again. Or that he saw Lily, and started flirting with her like he was prone to do. He’d come up with _something._

James’ hand pinched around his quill enough to stop its shaking. He could do this. 

_Just a little longer._

* * *

But Sirius wasn’t one to wait. 

It had been a long time coming, but Padfoot eventually cornered James in their dorm room two days later. James was surprised he’d lasted that long without a one-on-one confrontation, all things considered.

The moment James cautiously stepped inside their dorm room, Sirius appeared from beneath James’ invisibility cloak—that explained its disappearance from his trunk—and streaked to the door like a madman.

Sirius slammed the door to their dorm, uttering a 'silencio' and a locking charm for good measure before spinning to face him with a furious expression. “Alright. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” James feigned innocence but probably looked more like a deer in the headlights, initial anger having long transitioned into fear of this very moment. “Fantastic, how about you?” 

Sirius frowned, chucking the invisibility cloak and the Marauders' map, now peaking between its folds, onto the ground.

“I’m not playing, _James_.” When James’ name in that tone was out of Sirius’ mouth, it was rarely a good thing. It was something Sirius had adopted from James’ mother on the rare occasion she’d scold her husband and son. It put James on edge, especially now.

“Neither am I,” James said after a minute, setting his book bag down on the chair next to him. “I’m _fine._ ” But inwardly he was silently begging Sirius to drop it. 

Sirius pressed his lips into a thin-line “Is avoiding your friends your new definition of fine then?” 

“Sure, why not,” James said a little heatedly before he could stop himself.

Sirius merely regarded him silently with narrowed eyes, arms crossed. Weirdly, he reminded him of Lily’s similar stance when she was dealing with James. And he immediately disliked the comparison, because Sirius wasn’t supposed to act coldly to James like Lily did to him. James needed Sirius to be different _._

James sighed, roughly rubbing at his face and rebalancing his tilted glasses after.

“Just been a bit out of sorts lately, alright?” He stepped back from Sirius a little, just so he could think easier. 

“But that’s just being a teenager, Padfoot,” James cracked a small smile then that couldn’t be further from convincing. “I think I’m _expected_ to be a little moody.”

“And a complete arse?” Sirius added promptly. Though his stance was relaxing marginally somewhat. James was beginning to hope Sirius might latch onto that vague excuse instead.

James winced slightly. “Yeah, that too.” He pushed on despite his nerves. 

“And about that… I’m sorry for ignoring you earlier, mate,” James said sincerely. “I was already in a poor mood and didn’t want to deal with anyone.”

“Not even you,” James added as an afterthought and Sirius tensed, impatient and frowning all over again.

_Let it go. Please just let it go._

But Sirius took orders from no one, sometimes not even James. 

“You’re beating around the bush.” He poked his finger at James’ chest to punctuate each word, which felt like it had been seared through from that alone. “I _know_ something’s different and it’s not blasted teenage hormones.”—James wasn’t about to correct him— “So what’s got you all somber, pissy, and _disappearing_ lately?” 

Sirius said ‘disappearing’ as if James had gone off to do something without the Marauders rather than simply avoiding them out of anger.

James pushed the finger away and off him before it could make a gaping hole where his chest should be.

“ _Disappearing?_ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” James turned away from him because looking at Sirius—who he was habitually honest with—and lying at the same time suddenly felt like too much for his brain. “I only avoided you yesterday because we were both pissed at each other.”

But Sirius took issue with something unrelated to James’ statement entirely.

“Why won’t you look at me?” He asked, causing James to freeze.

And how can Sirius ask him that when James was looking at him all the time? Just because he wasn’t this _very second_.

And James still wouldn’t now. “Do I always have to be?” 

Sirius groaned, sounding increasingly frustrated. “That’s _not_ what I’m getting at.”

“Then _what_?” In his frustration, James made the mistake of looking up at Sirius then.

Sirius’ _red_ hair was a mess and he looked genuinely distraught, grey eyes looking so _lost_ all of a sudden, like he didn’t know how to proceed. Because really, James’ distant behaviour had to be new territory to Sirius too—It was _unnatural_ for either of them to be closed off from each other. Sirius looked him in the eye with so much earnestness, as if there wasn’t enough guilt ransacking James by then already.

“Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?” Sirius seemed less angry and more worried than James had ever seen him. 

“I’m not confronting you for the hell of it. I’m trying to help you cause you’re my bloody best mate,” Sirius continued. And it physically hurt for James to see and hear Sirius being this passionate and _genuine_ about himself. “And I don’t want to keep seeing you like _this_.” 

He gestured at James and then the space between them, and the way his throat swallowed with emotion wasn’t James’ imagination for once. It closed up James’ own.

_I don’t deserve you._

Sirius stared at him, grey eyes exceedingly gentle and tone nearly beseeching.

“Tell me, James, so I can help you.”

James couldn’t tell him, but he couldn’t _not_ either. Pretending there was nothing worth telling would just have Sirius run in circles till he figured it out for himself. James wouldn’t allow it.

“You can’t,” James finally said, feeling himself sweating and stepped closer to their rooms’ window. “It’s not something you can help me with, Sirius.” 

He could acquiesce that much. 

“Even if I can’t,” Sirius pressed. “We’re brothers, remember?” 

He looked James straight in the eyes like he might accept _anything_ that James would say to him just because Sirius was _that_ loyal. And for a horrifying second, James’ paranoia made him think Sirius _knew._

But then he wouldn’t be asking.

“You can tell me _anything_.” 

The way Sirius said _anything,_ James wanted to believe him

He could tell Sirius, tell him now... Spill everything off his chest. Speak to the extent that the little prank Peter did change James’ entire understanding of everything between them... To let Sirius know how crazy he’d been about him since he’d donned red hair... Admit that James might be able to see Sirius that way if things were different and he’d been born ginger instead of a Black.

And for none of it to matter to Sirius... For Sirius to laugh it off and still interact with him like usual... Like James’ capability to find him more beautiful than he should, was completely normal and okay... That it didn’t have to change anything except that James liked him, even more, when he was red.

_James wanted that to be true so badly._

But that was fantasy, and keeping Sirius—as he was, as _Padfoot and Prongs_ were together—would always be more important than other unnecessary feelings James had for him while he was red.

And Sirius _wasn’t_ red. 

Not _really_.

The Sirius that mattered, the one he’d been friends with for years while also the same boy in front of him, James was looking at through red-coloured lenses that were distorting his reality. James owed it to Sirius to not ruin their friendship by going a little mad over Sirius just dying his hair another color once. That was one of the stupidest reasons to lose your best mate. 

Ultimately, Sirius’ plea had the opposite effect because James didn’t want to ever say anything that would make him lose _this:_

_Sirius treating James like he was his best friend… irreplaceable… family._

And the answer that came to save it all was _her._

“Lily,” James said abruptly. 

Sirius blinked then, completely caught off guard. “ _What_.” 

“It’s Lily,” James said, smiling bitterly as the rest of the lie’s details seemed to bloom up as readily as the flowers in his mother’s garden. 

“I don’t want to love her anymore,” James continued as Sirius stared at him in shock as if he’d grown a second head.

_I don’t want to want you this way._

It was all _too_ easy making his situation with Sirius about Lily, with how long James had been trying to convince himself of the same. But in truth, the impression of Sirius as a redhead stood out completely on its own.

“I don’t want to want her anymore. And it’s making me miserable,” James went on as he began pacing the room and running his fingers through his hair. The next train of thought connected to the next and the next to paint a perfect _picture._

“Sometimes, I don’t want to be in love with her. Even though I _am_. Or I don’t want to find her beautiful even though I _do_.” James walked back and forth while Sirius continued to watch him.

Replacing Lily with Sirius would be more accurate.

“Why,” Sirius asked, sounding floored.

James shrugged. Even if it was Lily he was naming, his reasons didn’t have to be an utter lie. And it wasn’t as if he had to dig that deep to find similar thoughts about her either. Afterall, nobody wants to want someone who can’t want them back.

“Because it’s _overwhelming_.” James’ voice was even but his face crumpled slightly. 

“And it’s been _worse_ lately how badly I feel when I’m with her.” He rubbed at his eyes again in honest frustration.

“I just—It’s not like I had a choice to… And I hate how _out of control_ it makes me feel.” His hands gripped at his sides, as he began to talk more loudly. 

“And if she can’t even feel the same about me back, then what are these feelings _good_ for?” 

James realized the way he’d stopped pacing and was facing Sirius, it was almost like he was appealing his case to Sirius himself. About James’ feelings for _him_. 

“It’s like I can’t be myself around her anymore, I can’t relax. I can’t _enjoy_ the feelings… It’s gotten to that point wi—” James paused a moment, barely stopping from saying _with you._

“I see that red hair and I just lose all sense and reason, and I’m just miserable,” James finished, breathing heavily and ashamed. Both for the real reason and the one he’d lied. Intertwined.

Sirius stared at him for a long time. 

And then suddenly Sirius was laughing, uncontrollably and without stopping himself. But somehow, as funny as Sirius found it, it seemed more sympathetic than mocking.

When he eventually calmed down enough from it, still chuckling, he was already patting James on the back. 

“Sometimes, you’re a lovesick fool.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. 

Doubly true, because deep down some of that anxiety was true about Lily as well. 

“You think about her too much, James.” And Sirius’ voice sounded so honest and gentle when he said it. Which made all the lies James had spilt out of his mouth all the more worse. Feel all the more _poisonous_. 

But if there’s anything James had learned, the best lies have the most elements of truth in them. And he still needed to explain why he was acting odd around Sirius himself.

“I know,” James looked at Sirius pointedly then as they stood between their beds.

“But that was a bit easier when your hair wasn’t reminding me of her.”

Sirius froze completely.

“Shit, I never thought of that…” That much was clear on Sirius’ stricken face. 

His hands flew up to his hair as if he wanted to vanish it, looking terribly guilty. Almost as much as James himself felt for doing this when he should be the only one to apologize.

“I know,” James said weakly, feeling terrible. 

“For all this time?” Sirius blinked at him, bewildered. 

“I tried to ignore how much it was reminding me of her,” James swallowed, filled with the need to both absolve Sirius of any blame and defend himself at that moment. 

“But I couldn’t, which wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know, because I didn’t want to tell you, and I was worried I was going insane,” James kept rambling while Sirius’ eyes became wider the more he kept speaking. 

“I know it’s weird to associate her with that color, especially on another person. And all kinds of unhealthy.” James thought of his actions two days ago and quickly suppressed them. “But I couldn’t change how I reacted so strongly,” James shrugged helplessly.

Sirius’ hands had left his hair completely to watch James as if it was all beginning to make sense to him. Or James was beginning to unravel that spectacularly.

“So when I saw it on you, it was like I couldn’t escape the reminder of her. It hurt to see all the time. Even now, I’m...” James trailed off unable to complete the sentence that hit too close to the truth.

_Even now, I’m affected by you._

“I sound like a madman,” James said after the ensuing silence had drawn on for too long.

“ _Blimey_ , _James_.” For a long moment, Sirius said nothing more. 

James couldn’t look at him, staring at the ornate decorations on the carpet, imagining he was elsewhere and pressing his shaking hands into his pockets to hide them from view. He didn’t raise his head until Sirius finally spoke again.

“Sometimes you’re mad, mate, like _completely bonkers_ ,” Sirius shook his head but just as quickly he _smiled_. “But I like to think that’s why we’re so well-matched.” His teeth became a little sharper, his gaze a little more _reckless._

The constriction in James’ chest lessened and he breathed a little more properly as Sirius’ unrestrained expression warmed him through and through. It was the face they made at each other and laughed maniacally with, while onlookers cowered in terror.

Ferocious grin easing off, Sirius looked thoughtful a moment before touching his red hair experimentally again.

“I was going to get rid of it,” Sirius picked at a lock of his hair and studied it more critically than he ever had before. “But I’m _really_ getting rid of it now.”

Hearing those wonderful words, James couldn't contain his relief.

“Sorry about that and... everything else,” James began apologetically. “But also _thank, Merlin!_ ” 

Sirius looked like he was about to burst out laughing all over again. 

“You’re gonna have a rough time in the future if you stay like this, Prongs,” He flicked his hair distractingly in James’ direction. “Lily, as lovely as she is, doesn’t own the color red.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” James already knew that. 

Sirius grinned, his eyes roaming over their banisters and Gryffindor tower paraphilia. “But you might have a stronger case with Godric Gryffindor staking a claim over it.” 

He knew exactly what Sirius was insinuating, given how much they joked at who their most likely ancestors were of the four Hogwarts heads.

James snorted, beating him to the punch. “Maybe that’s where I got my bloody obsession for it from.”

“Definitely,” Sirius laughed, and for a moment they stood, looking around the room’s obvious red themed decorum in comfortable silence. But James didn’t miss the way Sirius’ fingers had absently begun to twist a strand of his own hair. 

“Just one thing,” Sirius commented, sounding honestly curious. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it for you,” James answered, and while not the whole truth, it was still a very tiny part of it. “You seemed to enjoy it so much. And I didn’t think you were going to keep it for a week, let alone a whole month. But then you kept getting compliments and I don’t know. I thought I could deal with it but then _Lily_ —”

“Alright. _Alright_ ,” Sirius gently cut him off, looking like he was about to laugh instead of having a guilty hair crisis, at least for the moment.

He sat on his bed across from where James’ stood and looked up towards the ceiling like he was simply processing what James had said.

“I thought maybe something was strange,” Sirius said after a moment, still facing upward. 

“But as _usual_ it was just _Evans_.” Sirius sighed as if the one he was most disappointed in was himself. 

“Still, I’m glad to be wrong for once.” He looked at James then, his smile warm and surprisingly somber.

“For a minute there, I thought you had a problem with _me,”_ he laughed, and something _hurt_ about it.

James’ breath caught, but he didn’t let it show. It only fueled the _rightness_ of James’ decision to lie.

Instead, James smiled back. Elbowing him. “Course not.” 

“You’re my best mate.” He sat down with Sirius and slung his arm over his shoulder despite how right-wrong it felt. “Always will be.”

And that was fact.

Sirius smiled back, but his face pinched again as he kept thinking about what James had said.

“But I really should’ve guessed,” Sirius shook his head at himself. “You’re _actually_ blind to everyone but Evans.” The last part came out as a sigh as Sirius stretched himself out on his bed and lounged next to James. 

_I saw **you**. _

Yet, James managed to muffle it along with the growing shame of dragging Lily into this.

“Wait,” Sirius propped his head on his pillow to look at James. “What about that visit to Madame Pomfrey?”

“Told you,” James smirked, tying up the last loose end into a little bow. “Just _love-_ sick was all.”

Sirius puffed out his cheeks with a long groan, then chuckled in disbelief. 

“You’re such a mess, Prongs.” Sirius ruffled James’ messy hair before wrapping his arm around James’ shoulder to pull him down with him. 

If only Sirius knew.

“I am,” James agreed. “But you love it.”

Sirius raised both eyebrows playfully at that, sitting up suddenly.

“Of course, Padfoot will always be here to lick the wounds of Prongs’ ever bleeding heart,” Sirius announced dramatically. And then he did one of James’ favorite things. 

Sirius transformed into a big—surprisingly red—dog and just cuddled with James on his bed. And they stayed like that until James couldn’t feel anything but happiness anymore.

* * *

Remus and Peter seemed to accept their reconciliation with little fanfare, as well as the news of Sirius _Black_ ’s imminent return.

Sirius’ return to black hair had finally come and of course he had to announce it to the whole common room.

“Say goodbye to my ginger locks today!” Sirius beamed, bending over the railing half-way up the stairs to the boys’ dorms and holding up a vial that was none other than Pomfrey’s dye removing potion. 

It looked like a burnt orange, but James trusted her abilities enough that Sirius wouldn’t come back a much _oranger_ ginger to test James’ soul.

An encore of their housemates proceeded to say goodbye as Sirius blew them kisses while their group continued _slowly_ up the stairs. For added effect, presumably.

“Bye Red,” James joined in the voices below from next to Sirius, waving his hand and laughing past the lump in his throat. After all, He couldn’t deny being rather _attached_ to this particular Sirius.

“And good riddance,” Remus mumbled tiredly, hands toting his precariously stacked books as they continued up the stairs.

James and Sirius shared a knowing look while Peter snickered.

And yet, only James was fully in the know. He had underestimated himself, having become a remarkably good liar to Sirius in a short amount of time— _something he wasn’t proud of and never wanted to be._ But at least he wouldn’t _need_ to be again. 

Because Sirius was changing back for good.

“Thank you to all my adoring fans,” Sirius called out again, voice sounding genuinely tearful. Padfoot had really lived for the extra attention. But his audience was as entertained by Sirius as he was by them.

He continued to generously blow overzealous smooches into his star-struck crowd below. “I will miss you my lovelies!”

As they left the common room into the dorms, the lingering goodbyes faded after him, with one particularly loud female voice that screamed, “ _We love you!_ ”

It should be forever known that the Gryffindor house was a willing and enthusiastic participant to Sirius’ theatrics.

Walking down the hall toward their door, Sirius sniffed, “He will be missed.”

“Oi, they’ll still see you tomorrow,” James joked.

Sirius scoffed, acting as if offended. “Sirius Red is— _was_ practically a rockstar around these parts, James.” 

Sirius shook his head as if James was being ridiculous or lived under a rock. “A persona, all his own, a rebel… an unquenchable _fire_ of delinquency!”

“You’re just describing yourself.” James shouldered him playfully, jarring him mid-speech.

“Because I am,” Sirius wagged his eyebrows and grinned back at him.

They descended back into unrelated chatter and got ready for bed like every other night.

Then Sirius was going into the bathroom with a towel draped over his arm and vial in the other, door clicking shut behind him.

It was happening.

 _Finally_ after waiting for what felt like so long.

It was a good thing. He’d been wanting Sirius to get rid of it for the whole week. And it was about time for him to get it off.

Yet something in James was surprisingly nervous, as if he didn’t completely believe it.

That it would be over.

Sirius wouldn’t be his type anymore.

And James wouldn’t have to think of his friend _that_ way.

As James heard the shower run and the uncapping of the Potion, the telltale fizz filled the bathroom, and James could almost imagine the color red washing away into black.

It was almost a shame though.

James’ eyes drifted shut, with a feeling of victory tinged with disappointment, unable to keep himself awake to watch him coming out.

Sirius really had looked quite good with red hair.


	5. Back in Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> _but the content isn't always what it says on the tin_  
> 

The month-long saga of Sirius as a redhead ended rather anticlimactically.

Sirius wasn’t even there in the morning for James to see when he woke. 

Stretching and remembering the events of the night before, he looked around immediately for Sirius, only for Peter to let him know that Sirius and Remus had already gone to breakfast without them.

It was unsurprising for Peter to stick behind for James on the few occasions Sirius and Remus didn’t. But maybe James had been expecting Sirius to stick around for _that morning_ at least—now that he knew how significant it was to James.

Or it could just be Sirius postponing the revelation to the last moment for that exact same reason, in true _dramaturgical_ fashion that the Black family was known for. James laughed to himself as he slipped on his robes. That was one comparison Sirius wouldn’t appreciate.

Despite his anticipation to see Sirius anew as his 'old self' again, James found himself briefly thinking about Peter’s presence in lieu of Sirius’ more, while Peter waited for him patiently by the door. Because it was almost an overlooked rule at this point that Peter liked to wait for James if no one else was.

Maybe it was for all the times Prongs, as a stag, had let Wormtail, as a rat, sit on his back when they roamed with Moony on full moons. But Peter seemed to especially dislike leaving James behind if there wasn’t at least one of the other Marauders with him. Peter did it sometimes for Remus and Sirius as well, even if he was neither’s first choice to hang out with, out of the four.

James used to think it was because Peter disliked being the third wheel, but it could be just as likely that Peter cared for his friends in his own small ways. Or it could be a bit of both, and there’d be nothing wrong with that.

With James’ newfound—and no longer applicable, thankfully—feelings for a ginger Sirius, he was able to appreciate and empathize with Peter’s attachment to himself a little more.

He wondered that since he wouldn't pine after Sirius anymore, if that would change the way he thought about Peter. Like returning his thoughts about him to its regular standards too.

But thinking of Sirius again, James found himself getting ready quickly, treating getting dressed as if he’d been pursuing a snitch. And soon he was nearly running through the corridors to meet up with Sirius and Remus, with Peter doing his best to match his speed.

* * *

He found Sirius in the Great Hall, eating breakfast with Remus in their usual spots: eggs, sausage, and toast. And his hair was as fantastically _black_ as ever.

James had never been happier to see it.

Just like he’d known—now that the red was gone—James didn’t have a problem looking at Sirius like usual anymore. The swoop in James’ stomach was missing as was the urge to kiss him. And their absences were worth drinking a toast to.

Half a table away, a no-longer-red and black-for-good Sirius met James’ gaze and greeted him with a large and chewing grin. James smiled back at him stupidly, not caring how obscenely huge his own grin was on his face as he made his way towards him.

“Morning, Prongs!” An undeniably raven-haired Sirius raised up his half-eaten sausage at him. “Guess who’s _back_ in black?”

James was so happy he could _kiss_ him then, completely platonically of course. 

“The one and only Padfoot,” James answered as he now stood in front of him. Sirius patted the seat next to him and James was already sinking into it before Sirius had finished the motion.

And while Sirius put his arm around him as James sat in his seat next to him, James felt nothing but _right_ and insanely comfortable after all the times a previously ginger Sirius’ touch had made James unbelievably stressed instead. There were no words for the sheer relief it was to be able to be like this again.

Sirius leaned into his space and whispered something that James could actually pay attention to while no red tickled James’ nose, only black strands that James regarded like an old friend that had been sorely missed.

“How about we celebrate?” Sirius asked, eyes full of mirth and the promise of mischief on a similar, if not identical, wavelength as his own.

James grinned back at him, talking just as quietly even as he glanced at the Slytherins’ table. “What do you have in mind?”

“I think Snivellus might still look good with magenta robes.” Sirius turned towards him conspiratorially while Peter started enthusiastically stuffing his mouth with food to avoid any participation in this scenario again. Remus looked on amusedly. “What do you think?”

Free of the red, their old dynamics were already snapping into place as if they’d never been shaken loose, and James knew he belonged nowhere else.

“I think that’s _bloody brilliant_.” He raised his eyebrows, expression as cheerfully malevolent as Sirius’. 

_And no red hair in sight._ James’ brain couldn't repeat it enough.

And when Sirius’ grin widened with James’ own, the connection between them seemed solidified into a physical sensation, that James experienced like it was their very magic resonating together. Sirius looked just like James felt: content and smug with their re-established _rightness_. Perhaps this was all James wanted out of life, just the unbeatable feeling of being an inseparable pair.

As much as he was blissfully fastened into their duo, James’ eyes weren’t locked on Sirius. They were free to look at him or not as he chose, a freedom James would never take for granted again. But James would look now. Because he wanted to immortalize this moment he got everything back and was able to love Sirius the only way he ever wanted to, as his brother.

_See? It was always just the red._

Maybe he should make black his second favourite color.

But with Sirius this close, his face appeared clearer along with a sense of foreboding. The memory of red overlaid black for a split second, causing James’ smile to falter slightly.

While Sirius looked away from him, James slung his own arm behind Sirius’ back to physically hold onto the _real_ image of him, a smile still set on his face mostly on instinct. And he stared, really stared, at Sirius’s profile as the other laughed at something sarcastic Remus said, loud and joyous. 

James tried to look at it, expressive and buoyant, and very _not_ framed in red.

His eyes were grey and with long black eyelashes under elegant eyebrows, lovely—his skin was pale with black hair, tempting—his lips were pink with strands of black sometimes caught between them, alluringly—and his teeth seemed extra white with his hair all black, unforgettable.

_But there was no red. That was important._

And yet Sirius was just as beautiful.

Like being slowly immersed in ice, the realization began to take hold of him as his arm around Sirius quietly fell away.

_Maybe it wasn’t the color itself._

Surely out of focus or fogged up, he rubbed at his glasses before sticking them back on his face and staring at his friend again. Familiar soft and silky black hair, eyes still grey, and regal face always nice to look at, Sirius smiled at him, wild and feral, and James could barely smile back for the first time that morning—while he was suddenly so hungry even though Sirius looked the same as he always did.

Only _James_ was the one to look at him differently.

And he still wanted him.

_Maybe red just made him notice what was already there._

  
  


* * *

Things slowly got back to a new normal. The immediate _urgency_ for James to have Sirius had abated with the red. But the desire itself had not.

When Sirius had lost the red hair, a part of himself James had hoped would die a quick death without seeing the light of day or sustained by witnessing red-Sirius again, instead lived on to mourn its disappearance. So the memory of red Sirius stuck in his head, like a melody of a song he didn’t particularly want to hear but couldn’t stop humming.

As with all things that change, James eventually learned to live with it, along with relearning to live with Sirius who inspired these feelings.

Perusing through his books as he packed his bag for summer before their sixth year, James found a strand of red hair. It was short enough that it couldn’t be Lily’s but long enough that it couldn’t be anyone else's' but Sirius’ from months ago. It had somehow survived the house elf’s cleaning charms.

Overcome with nostalgia, James thought of keeping the strand for _sentimental_ purposes. Maybe to joke over a pint a decade from now, or more likely to place somewhere indiscernible in his room till he unearthed it and reminisced over something that had given him enough anguish he had decided not to part with the evidence of it.

It would be a memento to think “ _What a crazy time back then,_ ” or something to tell his daughter or son: “ _Your fathers’ best mate getting his hair dyed gave your dad a sexual identity crisis_.” 

It’d be hilarious. 

They’d have to be older for him to tell it though.

Without hesitating, James stuck it in the pocket of his good robes for safekeeping before packing his clothes away.

* * *

Peter asked James to walk with him to the Great Lake at the end of sixth year.

_“I’m in love with you_.”

And really, Peter was braver than he looked. James shouldn’t have underestimated him.

For a moment, James felt crueler than he ever truly wanted to be. It was partly jealousy that Peter did what he couldn’t and the other a bitter voice inside that had preferred remaining oblivious and unfairly blamed Peter for ruining it by ever giving Sirius red hair. 

And now James could never escape it.

His mind entertained, for a brief second, using Peter to figure out if he was, in fact, _that way_ for boys too... Just to know if it was a fluke once and for all, that his brain was just remembering but must be no longer true now... Like a moment of insanity that left such a strong impression, James couldn’t forget it while sane. Even if Peter isn’t the prettiest candidate to test that, he knew Peter would let him.

But that would help no one. James was disgusted with himself for even considering it.

“I’m sorry,” James said finally, meeting Peter’s wide eyes. He didn’t have to look down as much since Peter had gotten taller in a short amount of time. “I only see you as a friend… A _good_ friend.”

Peter’s face crumpled, and James felt quite guilty. But the shorter boy did his best to hold it together. 

“Can we still be friends?” Peter asked, voice emphatic but shaking.

It hurt to know Peter ever thought their friendship was a question. 

James spoke both from a place of honesty of not wanting to lose Peter and also from a place of empathy. Because he wouldn’t want Sirius to deny their entire relationship if Sirius was in James’ shoes and James was in Peter’s.

“ _Absolutely_.” He pulled Peter into a hug, who after finally letting loose something he held onto for so long began to bawl loudly.

But James would never be that brave to tell Sirius. And besides, what would he say?

It had been a year now and long enough for James to realize that while the red was gone, the impression of realizing he could find Sirius truly beautiful, and that he still did, remained well after.

But it was just an extra detail to his day-to-day at this stage of his life... with a war on the horizon, his last year at Hogwarts approaching, and still coming to terms with his parents increasing frailness in their old age.

Some things wouldn’t change. Even if his deeper understanding of them did.

For now and forever, Sirius was his best friend. And James was still hopelessly in love with Lily Evans.

‘Best friend’ just meant something more to James than most.

* * *

In seventh year, after they become head girl and head boy, just like every wish James had made about her before, he and Lily Evans began dating. 

It was a shock to everyone, probably the most to James himself, who’d asked her out only after deciding it would be the third and last time he would, when she’d said “ _Yes_.”

And the lingering thoughts of what-ifs of black hair and grey eyes were gently laid to rest by thoughts of red-and-green and the wonder that was Lily Evans.

* * *

Only a week before graduation when their lives would forever change and leave Hogwarts’ halls, in the dorm with Sirius and Remus and Peter asleep in the beds beside him, James imagined the future.

Twenty years or so from now, _he’d tell Sirius a joke._

_Over a pint of beer, when they were nasty old men whose wives had gotten tired of them for the day, and having no patience left for them getting drunk at home, kicked them out for the night to hang at the pub together... before they’d return and apologize for drinking so irresponsibly they could hardly see straight._

_They’d still be such a wonderfully awful influence on each other… after all these years._

_Between swigs, he’d catch his friend of twenty years off guard._

_When he knew Sirius was inebriated enough he would hardly remember and might choke—because that’d be hilarious._

_It would be as easy as “Remember when Peter dyed your hair?”_

_“I actually wanted to shag you when you were a ginger.”_

_The punchline would be the best part, as unbelievable as it was true, and doubly funnier to James himself for it._

_“And I still do.”_

_And then James would have his confession and bury it for good. The moment would be over, and James would get to admit something without even having to be taken seriously… could feel like he finally told the truth without having to face the consequences in any meaningful way._

_And Sirius would laugh, a wild thing. And still unfairly lovable… and just as captivating as he was in his youth. And James would join him. That was all he ever had to do. And it had always been enough._

_Why shouldn’t it still be?_

And it always would.

**Author's Note:**

> A melancholic yet optimistic? ending... I know and I'm sorry. But that's what continuations are for. _*winks*_
> 
> Anyway if you made it this far, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


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